


Scream Hello

by gilded_iris



Series: Scream Hello [1]
Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Richie Tozier, Closeted Character, Future Fic, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Macroverse, Past Child Abuse, Pining, References to the larger Stephen King universe, Repressed Memories, Smoke-hole, Supernatural Elements, The Ritual of Chüd, Todash space, Unhappy marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:50:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilded_iris/pseuds/gilded_iris
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is thirty-eight years old. His hair is thinning in the back, his hands are constantly dry from the antibacterial soap he uses, and his gums are receding after a lifetime of over-brushing his teeth. For the past few years, he's been wearing a pair of rimless spectacles that sit handsomely on his delicate nose. Despite being unable to exercise, he keeps a tidy figure. He is attractive enough, although not overtly so. He is short. Meek. Anxious. Tired. Most of all, Eddie hates his life.It's twenty-five years after the Losers Club confronted It. Eddie is the owner of a luxury car service and is married to Myra, a clone of his mother. His memories of Derry are jumbled and suppressed. Then, one day, a certain ghost from his past gets into the back of his car.





	1. Haunting Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an AU if Richie and Eddie were to meet again two years before Mike calls them. I mix a bit of canon from all three incarnations of IT, but this story is meant to be a continuation of the 2017 film. However, I draw a lot from the book and miniseries too, physical descriptions included. I chose for Richie's career to be a comedian like the miniseries rather than a DJ, but Eddie's adult life is meant to be almost identical to the book. 
> 
> Title is from the Pearl Jam song, "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town"

 

# Chapter One: Haunting Familiar 

 

1

 

Eddie Kaspbrak was thirty-eight years old. His hair was thinning in the back, his hands were constantly dry from the antibacterial soap he used, and his gums were receding after a lifetime of over-brushing his teeth. For the past few years, he'd been wearing a pair of rimless spectacles that sat handsomely on his delicate nose. Despite being unable to exercise, he kept a tidy figure. He was attractive enough, although not overtly so. He was short. Meek. Anxious. Tired. Most of all, Eddie hated his life.

He didn't need Freud to tell him how fucked up his marriage was. Myra was three inches taller than Eddie and weighed forty pounds more than him at the wedding. Now, in the fifteen years since, she had grown to be a whoping one hundred fifty pounds larger. Her appearance, her personality, and the way she hulked over him, was almost identical to Sonia Kaspbrak. 

Eddie's mother died of congestive heart failure a year before Eddie got married. A hidden, shushed up part of Eddie hoped Myra would hurry and do the same. He didn't love his wife. He only married Myra because… well he wasn't really sure why. His mother had passed away; it'd made people stop asking if he was gay; it was what men were supposed to do. Those all could have been reasons, but somewhere hidden within in him, Eddie suspected that the real reason he married her was because he needed someone to love him. Myra probably loved him as much as any woman could love a man. She reveled in feeding him and kissing him and making sure he took his medications. She coddled him into submissiveness and choked him with solicitude.  

He realized that he would never love her back on the night of their wedding. She'd kissed his naked body and gently fucked herself on him – back in those days, the physical stimulation from her hand was sufficient to give him an erection and the rhythmic motions of her hips were just enough for him to be able to ejaculate. But after he came and opened his eyes to look at her, he felt nothing. Worse, he felt  _violated._

Every time they had sex, Eddie would just lie back and let Myra ride him. He was scared what it would mean if he said no, so he didn't. Myra wanted to have a baby and Eddie wanted to make Myra happy, so he went through the motions. And it was easy. Easy for him to let Myra take care of him in every sense of the word. As time progressed, however, his body became less and less responsive, until he was terrified he had some sort of early-onset erectile dysfunction disorder. Eddie had been so scared that he wasn't right  _down there,_ that he didn't protest when Myra handed him a tablet of Viagra at dinner sometimes. When Eddie's perceived impotence was "medded away" as his mother would have called it, Myra still didn't get pregnant. So, in 2008, after seven years of marriage, when they were both thirty-two and still childless, they went to a fertility clinic. The doctor told them that it was Myra's weight that prevented them from having a child. The second opinion agreed, as did the third. Eddie was relieved. They stopped having sex completely after that, but Eddie was still miserable in his marriage. His misery though, had an absent quality. 

Myra treated Eddie like the baby they never had. She was always there to remind him, just as his mother had before her, that he was different.  _Your system is weak! Your lungs are underdeveloped! You're allergic to grass! You're too delicate, Eddie Bear!_ He hadn't wanted to marry Myra. He was smart enough to realize the implications of his relationship with her well before they wed, and he had really, truly, sincerely intended to break things off with her. But he really did need someone to love him. More than that, he needed someone to protect him. Not because he was delicate, _oh no,_ that was the secret behind it all: he needed someone to protect him from the notion that somewhere deep inside him, he was actually brave. Myra was scared of all sort of things. Bugs, illnesses, dogs, loud noises, you name it – Mrs. Kaspbrak was easily spooked. She clung to Eddie and Eddie clung back, hoping that her fears would become his. There were things, memories, that if were to ever catch up with him, would surely make Eddie die of fright. Whenever he thought of anything in Derry, his throat would close up, air would just barely whistle through, and his head would feel ready to burst with panic. 

So he kept moving. He had to. It was either that or stay still long enough for the fear to catch up. So, he . In the early years of their marriage, Eddie started out by driving cabs. He and Myra shared a little home in Queens where she would stay during the day and watch her TV and he would go and work. He was good at what he did and after three years, the cab company promoted him to their luxury car service and he spent the better part of seven years driving limos for them. What he and Myra referred to as The Big Idea came to Eddie in 2012.

Premier Auto was the rich man's car service. As Eddie watched the rise of Uber and Lyft, he founded Premier as a luxury alternative aimed to the celebrity elite. The business model wasn't overly complicated. When a customer wanted a Premier car, they first had to be invited to such a privilege. The company was in contact with publicists who then directed their clients to use the service. In fact, it was rarely the celebrities who arranged their rides themselves. Starting in 2013, Premier launched an app that allowed clients and their publicists to have joint control over their Premier account. A publicist would send out when and where a pick-up was to be arranged, the final destination, and any potential concerns over their client's sobriety. Then, the publicist's client would then be sent a text with a large-print driver number. When they were ready to be picked up, all they had to do was find the black car with a sticker that matched the number on their phone and hop in. Eddie chose this way of doing things because it meant that little conversation ever occurred in the car. He simply waited for someone to flash the driver number on their phone and unlocked the door. Then, all he had to ask was whether the client preferred the divider up or down, and nine times out of ten the response would be a silent nod and the duration of the ride would be spent with a semi-opaque divider between them. He'd reach the location sent to him through the app and receive his five-star review and digital tip. 

When Eddie started, he brought two other drivers from the limo service. Their experience and know-how of the business made Premier an instant success. They expanded into a fleet of a hundred highly-trained professional drivers. Renowned for their professionalism and discreteness, Premier soon became the go to car service in celebrity circles, going as far as replacing private drivers. Though he was the founder and CEO, Eddie was still an active driver. Of course he didn't need to be, there was plenty of interior business to attend to, but driving was a sort-of therapy for him. It meant time by himself, away from his wife. His client's rarely required entertaining and he was good at leaving them to their devices. He had his own shiny black Lincoln Town Car (Premier's trademark model) that he kept waxed and sanitized. In fact, it was the perfectness of the car that made Eddie Premier's highest rated driver with a 100% track record of five stars. The vast bulk of Premier's clients were more distinguished celebrities who didn't kick up much trouble and the company's business model reflected that. In fact, the vast majority of their profit came from membership fees rather than the cost of an actual ride. Celebrities were willing to pay frankly outrageous prices to ensure their privacy in transportation. Premier's drivers were experts in "discretion and civility" and Eddie exemplified these principles perfectly.

A few years back he'd bought a little notebook to keep him company. Now, whenever a client stepped in the car, before starting his routine, he'd jot their name down in the journal. Every week or so, he handed the notebook over to Myra who would squeal and jab her pink fingers at the names and say things like,  _Jude Law! I heard he's_ **_so_ ** _nice!_ and  _Is it true Anne Hathaway's a bitch?_  Eddie would always reply,  _I'm not sure sweetie, we didn't really talk._ Then, Eddie would take his medication, Myra would eat some sweets, they'd watch Jeopardy over TV dinners, and go to bed. 

That's how life went. Well, until Richie showed up.

 

2

 

Saturday nights were always the busiest. And yet, Eddie'd been cruising around for nearly an hour before his phone assigned him a client. He pulled over next to the Louis Vuitton on fifth avenue to check the app. 

_Client name: Richard T._

_Location: Outside stage door number 3 of the Rockefeller_

_Time: ASAP_

_Destination: Gramercy Park Hotel_

_Notes: UIC_

The request was made by the Agency for the Performing Arts. Premier worked with the APA fairly often. Eddie had personally driven Alec Baldwin for them on countless occasions. He wasn't sure who Richard T. was, but the APA's clients were always quiet. The note, however, concerned him. In his business, UIC was understood to be a warning that stood for Under the Influence of Cocaine. Despite what you most people thought, celebrities were usually quiet and too tired after a day of work to make ruckus in the back of a car, but when they were coked up, well, that was another story. Eddie was tempted to decline, but seeing as business was slow, he accepted the request and made his way to the Rockefeller Center.  

He pulled the car discreetly next to the stage door and put it into park. He marked his arrival on the phone and waited. The alley with the stage doors was empty save his car. The Rockefeller Center was pretty good with secret exits and it was rare to see a member of the general public wander into the corner where car services picked up their famous clients. After a few minutes, Eddie turned the car off. He wasn't terribly surprised that Richard T. wasn't out there waiting for him. It was fairly common for an agent to request a car for their client prematurely, which was the only major downfall of Premier's third party system, but it was accounted for in late fees hidden in the terms of service. Sitting in the alley waiting for his client, Eddie was making just as much as he did when he was actually driving. He reclined his seat a little bit and turned the radio on low, waiting for his client to burst out of the stage door high as a kite.

Three minutes later, a tall guy in a tacky teal windbreaker rushed sauntered into the alley from the street and tried the handle to the backdoor of Eddie's car.  _Shit._ Eddie frowned and rolled down the window.

"Sir, this isn't an Uber," he said, keeping his eyes on the stage door and hoping the man would leave before his client came out. It was rare, but occasionally a random off the street would approach his car, confusing it for their own ride.

The man's ears perked up, he abandoned the car's handle, not looking the least bit embarrassed. Then, he looked at the car, smiled, and stuck his face through the open window. And oh,  _oh,_ that face. Eddie paled. He knew that face and he  _knew_  that he knew it… and yet he couldn't place it. 

_(Blue eyes. Cocky grin.)_

Features that belonged to a childhood wrapped in static. Eddie pulled his aspirator out of his interior blazer pocket.

"Premier, right?" The man asked, laughing at Eddie's expression. "My agent said she set up a ride for me." Eddie didn't say anything, he just kept staring at the funny man bending into his car.

Eddie cleared his throat. "Do you have a confirmation number?" his voice came out weakly. 

"Uh," the man pulled his phone out and pulled up the number, flashing the screen to Eddie, "how's this work for you, good lookin'?" Eddie felt his cheeks burn. He caught his reflection in the rear view mirror.  _Good looking, my ass,_ he thought to tired eyes. "So… can I get in the car?" 

"Oh!" Eddie cursed himself for getting distracted and unlocked the door. "Yeah, hop right in."

The man – Richard T., it seemed – smiled with teeth 

_(Bucky beaver!)_

a bit too big for his face and got in the back of the car.

Eddie sucked in a nervous breath and put the car in drive. He looked back at Richard, who was now enamoured with something on his phone. Eddie noticed that even with the light of his screen blaring into them, his client's pupils were indeed unnaturally dilated.  _Well, if he's high, at least he's good at handling it._

"Would you prefer the divider up or down?" Eddie said, regaining his voice.

Richard looked up from his phone and gave Eddie an amused look. He laughed. "A divider? That's pretty swanky, huh? Leave it down, my kind sir. I'm liking the view." 

Ah, so that's why Eddie couldn't place Richard. He was new-famous. It was obvious now. Surely he was an up and coming stand-up comic, probably just come in from L.A., unused to the start treatment. Eddie sighed a breath of relief. That's why he recognized him. He'd probably seen him on Conan or something. 

"So Mistuh Driver Man," Richard said when they stopped at a red light, "tell me about yourself." Eddie was caught off guard. His clients were rarely rude, but they didn't really like to talk much. The eager look on Richard's face only confirmed Eddie's new-famous suspicions. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm really not at all that interesting. What about you? Is this your first time in New York?"

"Oh I fucked around the city when I first started out. I'm a comedian, in case that wasn't obvious. Didn't get much work around here, so I moved out to L.A." Richard's dish-plate pupils twinkled in the late night lights. 

_(Blue eyes! Blue eyes! Blue eyes!)_

And oh. Eddie really did know those eyes. All of the sudden a clang clashed through the static. Eddie hadn't thought about his childhood in years, but now he found it in the backseat of his car. Now as obvious as it could be, Richard T. was Richie Tozier. When had Eddie last thought about Richie? Five years ago? Ten? Fifteen? More? When was the last time Eddie had thought about Derry at all? He couldn't help it now. He took one hand off the steering wheel and put his aspirator in his mouth. Something that might've been recognition flashed through Richie's eyes in the mirror and Eddie plunged the trigger. Eddie didn't say anything.

It was clear that Richie didn't remember him, not really. The thought made Eddie sad, but they'd been fifteen when they'd last seen each other, so it shouldn't have been that great of a shock. Hell, Eddie didn't remember it all either. It was clear to him now that a fugue was wrapped around his childhood. Richie had moved away first. The Tozier family left Derry in the spring of '91. Just a year later, Eddie and his mother moved to Queens. Before that though, Richie and Eddie had been friends.  _Best friends,_ Eddie's mind corrected,  _we were best friends._ Five other faces appeared in his mind, hidden behind a terrible, terrible fear. It was as though Eddie wasn't meant to remember any of it and yet…

 

3

 

_"Hey Eds, don't start crying on me." Richie wiped his thumb over his friend's cheek. They were sitting in Richie's room. It was empty now, the last of the boxes were already stuffed in the U Haul waiting outside his house._

_"Don't call me Eds, asshole." Eddie sniffed._

_"Aw, Spaghetti Man, you know you love me." Richie laughed and ruffled his fingers through Eddie's hair._

_They say together for a while, on that barren floor. The funnybooks and rock'n'roll posters were all gone. Packed away forever. The joy buzzers and loose candy; the awful Hawaiian shirts and rolls of tape for his glasses. The room wasn't Richie's anymore, his personality was in those boxes. Eddie was scared that he was like the room and that once Richie was really gone, he too would be devoid of that immature childish joy. He looked at his very best friend and couldn't help but cry._

_"I'm sorry Rich," he said, "First Bev left, then Bill, then Ben, then Stan, and now we never hear from them. It fucking sucks." As the members of the Losers' Club left Derry one by one, their contact dwindled. Part of Eddie knew that it was just what happened to childhood friends, but he'd never fathomed it happening to them. Mike theorized that it was because of It's curse over the town. He swore that Derry made them forget each other as soon as they left. Eddie wasn't sure if he wanted Mike to be right or not. He sort of hoped he wasn't. He didn't want to think that Pennywise could still yield influence over them; his belief that Pennywise had to be dead was the only thing that kept him together some nights._

_"I know Eds."_

_Eddie didn't protest to the nickname this time._

_"You'll call, right?"_

_"Of course. If you don't think I'm gonna ring you up every night to practice my voices, then you are sadly mistaken my friend."_

_"God, don't make me regret it," Eddie said with a sad laugh. There was so much he wanted to say to Richie, so many words that he'd never been able to form. He loved his best friend. Well, he loved all his friends. His love for Richie was different though and he knew it. "Hey, Rich…" he trailed off. Some sentences aren't just a collection of words – they're a signal of permanent change. Some sentences can alter your whole world. There are words that once they come out, can never be put back. Eddie was scared of these words, just as he was scared of the scar on his palm. He knew that if he told Richie what he wanted to tell him, even though they'd soon be far apart, nothing would ever be the same. He'd have to stop lying to himself; he'd have to tell his mother. He held his hands in front of his face and watched them tremble._

_"Hey," Richie grabbed his hands. Richie's were warm and a bit sweaty, they always were, but rather than being disgusted by them like Eddie had been when he was younger, he found nothing but comfort when they were wrapped around his. "What is it, Ed?"_

_"I– I…"_ Now or never, Kaspbrak! Now or never! If you don't say it now, you never will.  _"Rich… I'm gay."_

_Richie looked at him with wet blue eyes._

_Eddie's cheeks burned._ Dammit,  _there went those words that could never be taken back._

_"Why didn't you tell me before?" Richie asked, voice quieter than Eddie had ever heard it._

_Eddie shrugged weakly. "I didn't want you to hate me."_

_"Hate you?" Richie looked hurt._

_"I've been called a girly boy and a fag for as long as I can remember. I mean I know you, Stan, and Bill were called homos and flamers too, but that stopped after the Bowers gang… well… you know…" Eddie trailed off, unwilling to mention the events of the summer of '89."You and the rest of the Losers always defended me. But the truth is I_ am  _gay. The names they called the rest of you were just a way to pick on you, but everyone was right about me all along. I let you all stick your necks out for me even though the rumors were true." Eddie started crying again._

_"We defended you because we love you Eds, not because we didn't want you to be gay. I mean I can't speak for everyone else, but I don't care if you like guys. I honestly can't imagine that any of the other Losers would care either."_

_Eddie sniffled, refusing to meet his friend's eye. "I like you Richie," he whispered looking at the empty walls._

_"I like you too Eds." Eddie didn't have to see Richie's face to know his friend was smiling as he said this, it was all there in his voice._

_"No, I_ like  _you." His breath picked up and he almost wished he hadn't thrown his aspirator away two years earlier. Placebo or not, it had helped him once. "I like you in the way boys should like girls."_

_"Eds…" The truck outside honked its horn. Eddie pondered, just for a second, that maybe Richie had some irreversible words he wanted to say too._

_Another sob came from Eddie. He stood up and looked out the window to the U Haul. Maggie and Wentworth were both sitting in the cabin staring up at him._

_"Shit." Richie said, standing up too. He put his hands on Eddie's shoulders and turned him around to face him. Eddie saw now that Richie was crying too. "You should've told me earlier." Richie's voice broke._

_"I don't want you to go."_

_The truck honked again._

_"I'll call."_

Richie had called. At least, he did for a little while. But as time went on, Richie became occupied with his new life and his voice on the other end of the phone grew more and more distracted as their calls became shorter and shorter. Just as it had happened with Bev and Bill and Ben and Stan, Richie was forgetting him too.

It was Eddie, however, that stopped communication altogether just seven months after Richie'd moved. Richie'd called him and told him about losing his virginity to a girl from his new school. Eddie had hung up and never called him back. 

 

4

 

Eddie remembered this all suddenly. He glanced to the backseat. Richie was looking at something on his phone again. He should say something. He  _needed_ to say something.  _Hey Richie! It's me, Eddie! You can call me Eds or even Spaghetti. I don't care. Please just for the love of God remember me!_ Eddie opened his mouth to speak. His Adam's apple bobbed, but his voice did not come. 

He pulled the car up to the lobby of the Gramercy Park Hotel. His fingers stiffened on the steering wheel.  _Now or never, Kaspbrak! Now or never!_  But the courage he'd found when he was fifteen was gone. In just a few seconds, Richie was going to get out of the car, go into his hotel, and be lost to Eddie again forever. 

"We're here," Eddie turned to the back seat and announced with wide eyes. He took another hit from his aspirator. Richie put his phone down. He pressed his fingers to his temples and sniffed his nose. In his panic, Eddie had almost forgotten the UIC notice. As a driver of the rich and famous, Eddie'd witnessed his fair share of coke comedowns. Richie slapped the sides of his face.

"Woo-wee!" he smiled a toothy grin and pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his pocket. "Thank you, my kind sir! A penny for your troubles." He put the cash in Eddie's hand. Eddie shivered at the contact. 

"Oh, uh, you can just tip through the app." Eddie averted his eyes. 

"Boo-hiss," Richie winked. "It's always good to have cash. Keep it doll. You remind me of an old friend." 

Then, Richie was gone. 

Eddie dared to look at himself in the mirror. The man looking back at him was a stranger. 38. Balding. Letting a woman he didn't love control his life. Taking pills and snake oil. He hadn't changed at all. 

Richie'd looked good. Eddie had fallen in love with him when he was still a goofy looking kid, but the man who had been sitting in the back of his car had been undeniably handsome. He'd used Myra's weight as his own internal justification for not feeling attraction towards her. He couldn't bury it anymore. He was gay. And dear God, Richie had  _flirted_ with him. He'd called him  _good-looking._ Said he  _liked the view._ Called him  _doll._ The bravery that had filled him on that day in '91 was gone. Snuffed from him. His memories of his childhood were so tangled that he could no longer separate the fear from the joy and the love from the hate.

Eddie slammed his forehead against the steering wheel. 

Then, his phone dinged. 

_Ride Receipt_

_Ride cost: $50_

_Tip: $100_

_Rating: Three stars_

What. The. Hell. Eddie didn't even process the double tip, didn't process any of the panic still left in his mind, because motherfucking Trashmouth Tozier had just ruined his five star rating.


	2. Candle of Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie struggles with new revelations and Richie is a hot mess.

 

#  Chapter Two: Candle of Thought

 

1

 

"Sweetie, I wish you would tell me what's wrong." Myra, muted the rerun of Conan O'Brien Eddie'd put on. She put the wrapper of a packet of Delicious Deals – it was Swiss Rolls and Devil's Food Cremes tonight – in the wastebasket next to her chair and reached over from her loveseat to her husband. She placed a big hand on his thigh. Eddie flinched. 

"Long day at work is all, honey." He took her hand in his, moving it to the perch of his chair.

"Who did you drive today?"

"Just this guy. A new comedian, I think. He didn't use a name." Eddie wasn't sure why he lied, but for whatever reason he wanted his encounter with Richie to be his alone. 

"Was he mean to you, Eddie-bear? Did he yell at you?" Myra looked at him with eyes full of concern. The prospect of getting yelled at terrified her. 

"He didn't yell. He just gave me a bad review is all."

"Oh, Eddie!" Myra took a second to push herself up and out of her seat. She pulled her husband out of his own chair and into a hug. "I'm sorry sweetie." 

His face was pressed against her large breast to the point he could hardly breathe, but Eddie wasn't gasping for air. In Myra's arms, he found a strange safeness. The feeling was nothing like the one Richie's eyes had brought back. That was the thought that shot the breath out of him.  _ Richie, Richie, Richie.  _ Richie in the back of his car; Richie in the same city as him; Richie alive; Richie flirting with him; Richie buzzed on a line of coke; Richie a comedian; Richie approaching success; Richie attractive; Richie the same flesh and blood he had fallen in love with.

"Eddie! Eddie, honey, are you okay?!" Myra held him at arm's length, eyes wide in fear that she'd crushed him. "Do you need your aspirator?" When he didn't respond, she fumbled around through the pocket of her house dress and grabbed a little plastic device, sticking it in her husband's lips and activating the medicine for him. She pinched his side and he inhaled obediently.

Once Eddie got a hold of himself, he spoke, "Oh, I'm sorry Myra… you know how I get." He sighed. These days, Eddie didn't just have an inhaler. He had three. A pale pink one with a big plastic chamber for two puffs in the morning, two in the evening to keep him regular; a blue-green one for when he felt a cold coming on; and of course, the bright red emergency one for those moments when all of the sudden all the air disappeared from his lungs. If he were to get technical, he really had  _ five  _ inhalers: the pink, the teal, and count them: one, two, three of the bright red,  _ just in case.  _ One on his person, one on Myra's, and one in the glove department of his car. Eddie collapsed back into his chair. 

"Do you need the nebulizer?" Myra asked, backing away from him, scared she might break him. 

The nebulizer was good; it was comfort. The thick humming the machine made as it turned liquid medicine to gas and shoveled it through all those tubes and into the mouthpiece was familiar. Myra was good at setting it up, too. She'd put it on the bathroom counter and draw a hot bath to get the room nice and humid. Her thick fingers would become nimble when they took a syringe and drew a bit of Lidocaine out of the vial and squirted it into the machine's cup. She would rub his shoulder as he went through the breathing treatment. Then, she would sweetly boil the tubes and the mouthpiece without being asked and reassemble the machine as he took a bath in the then lukewarm water. 

All he had to to do was say the word and Myra would do all that for him. 

Eddie most definitely did not want the nebulizer. He was sure that tonight, he would find no solace. The medicine would burn his lungs.

"No, I'm alright Marty." She didn't look convinced and was too scared to respond to the nickname. "Really, I am. Apple-solutely."

Myra giggled at apple-solutely and her conniption passed. She grinned and bent down to place a vaseline-coated kiss on her husband's cheek. Eddie gave a half smile in return and watched as his wife went to the kitchen to get another Swiss Roll. It was okay though, Eddie had taken his medicine, and now Myra needed hers too. 

 

2

 

That night, Eddie finished his bedtime routine before Myra. He sat up in bed, waiting for her to get settled so he could turn out the lamp. He looked to the book on his bedside table. He'd been reading it for a few days now and his bookmark was firmly planted in the middle, but now, he couldn't fathom reading at all. Now he could no longer ignore the way the author's name made him feel. It was a horror-book (as Myra called them), but what scared Eddie wasn't the text, not really. It was the fact that the words William Denbrough were printed on the cover even larger than the title.  _ That's what happens when an author is famous enough, _ Eddie supposed,  _ their name gets top billing, not their work _ . He picked up the volume carefully, as though it might burn him, and opened it to face the author's picture in the front flap of the dust jacket. Eddie almost choked when he recognized the face to be that of Big Bill. 

Bill had been their leader, right? So why was it that Eddie had had his book in his possession for days, had seen his picture every time he opened it, and not recognized him until now? And why,  _ dear God, why _ had Richie's eyes set his brain back online? He couldn't fool himself, but he could damn well try. Eddie opened the drawer of his bedside table, dropped the book in there with a menacing thud, and slammed the drawer shut. He grabbed his red aspirator and took a hit. By some miracle, it seemed that Myra didn't hear the commotion and stayed put in the bathroom.

Eddie got out of bed and grabbed his laptop from the top of his dresser. He took the computer to the downstairs bathroom and sequestered himself with it. He opened Facebook and typed in Bill's name. He wasn't really surprised when he couldn't find Bill's personal profile, but there were dozens of fan pages. He clicked on the first one and was met by a huge forum of Bill's fans. The page was filled with hundreds of photos of him and his wife, many of which appeared to be taken by the paparazzi. Eddie vaguely recognized Audra and realized that he had once driven her to a movie premiere. It was few a years ago, and he couldn't recall whether she'd been with someone, but he was certain it had been her. He blew up a picture of the couple that looked like it was from a movie set and traced the faces of Bill and his wife. As his finger danced across the pixels that made up Audra's flaming hair, another candle lit in his mind. 

_ Betty? Bethany? What was her name?  _ Beverly. Eddie groped his pocket for his aspirator before realizing he'd left it upstairs. He gripped his hair and took a few gulping breaths. He couldn't remember her last name for the life of him and even if he had, there was always the possibility that she'd married. Despite his better judgement, he simply typed "Beverly" into the search bar. There were 38,500,000 results. He went to images and scrolled through the hundreds of Beverlys until he found one that struck a chord. It was a photo of a redheaded woman who looked strikingly similar to Audra Denbrough. Next to her, a tall, hulking man stood with his arm wrapped protectively around her. The caption read:  _ Beverly and Tom Rogan at New York Fashion Week.  _ So, she was a fashion designer. Eddie let the computer fall to the grown and gripped the edge of the sink. He'd bought Myra a Beverly Fashions, Inc. shirt for their last anniversary. He was sure of it. How had he not made the connection? Just like Bill's book, it seemed Beverly was floating around him too. His friends had been haunting him and he hadn't even noticed.

He picked up his laptop, deleted the internet history, and stuffed it under his arm. He wouldn't look up Richie. He would  _ not _ . He left the bathroom and stored his computer in the living room before returning upstairs. 

Myra was waiting for him on the corner of the bed. Her face was as white and shiny as the moon. She was wearing her flannel nightgown with the lace collar. The plaid fabric ended just below the knee and her large, hairless legs were dangling off the mattress. 

"Eddie? Where did you go? I came out of the bathroom and you were gone." She looked terrified.

"I just had to use the toilet, Marty." He took off his glasses and set them on his bedside table, avoiding looking at the drawer as though the book inside would come alive and hit him square in the face. 

"Oh dear," she whispered, "is the mail moving okay? Do you need a laxative?"

"I'm fine Myra. I just had to pee."

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

_ HA! Oh, Marty, you don't know the half of it! I didn't just see a ghost, I gave one a ride and he didn't like my driving!  _ He couldn't say that of course. 

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm really just tired. I'll be better in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Apple-solutely." 

Myra didn't laugh this time. 

Eddie pushed the covers up and got into bed. He beckoned for his wife to join him, but she stayed sitting on the edge of mattress. Eddie sighed. 

Then, Myra turned over and crawled to him from across the bed. Before he could realize what she was doing, Myra had her hand on his crotch, rubbing it gently through his pajama pants. 

"Myra…" he said weakly. She didn't listen. 

"Let me help you feel better," she whispered into his ear. She rolled to the side next to him and took his hand, and hiked it up the skirt of her nightgown. It seemed Myra was intent on breaking their unspoken celibacy. Eddie's hand fell limp from her thigh. She frowned. "Eddie-bear, don't you want me?"

Eddie swallowed. 

"I– I, uh, I just need a second." He leapt out of bed, grabbed his aspirator, and locked himself in their en suite. Myra was left behind in something akin to shock, but she didn't follow her husband.

 

3

 

Eddie found himself desperately trying to control his breathing in a bathroom for the second time that night. 

It'd been years since they'd had sex. As far as Eddie knew, that'd been a silent, but mutual agreement after they learned Myra couldn't carry a child. He was honestly unsure whether he would be able to  _ do it, _ so to speak, tonight. Not after that horrible, beautiful, torturous memory had returned. His mind betrayed him as he wondered what it would be like if it were Richie with his hand on him whispering into his ear. 

Eddie'd never stopped knowing that he was gay. It wasn't exactly something he could just turn off. And now, he felt himself wondering for the first time in a  _ very  _ long time, why it was that he'd gone back into the closet. He found that he couldn't remember. He'd come out to his mother once, hadn't he? Before Eddie'd married Myra, he'd left home three separate times. The first time, when he'd gone to college, should've been the only time. But alas, he'd crawled back to her after he'd graduated, then again when it was hard to get work, and once more when she'd begged him over the phone. 

In the times that he'd lived alone, Eddie had dated both men and women. He lost his virginity to a female friend during an awkward encounter in his junior year in college. He'd been almost twenty-one, the last virgin he knew, so it'd seemed like a good idea at the time. Looking back, he was almost certain that he'd gone back to telling people he was straight a few months after he and his mother had moved to Queens. His mother was thrilled when he'd brought the girl home with him over Christmas break, but the girl had broken up with him shortly after once it'd become apparent that sex had been a one time thing for them. He dated two other girls before graduating. Both relationships lasted less than three months and were unconsummated. 

The second time he left his mother, he went to a gay bar on the first night of his renewed freedom. The music had been too loud, the lights too low, and yet, Eddie had felt like he was flying. He'd gone home with a man that night, but froze as soon as it came time to disrobe. He'd tried again the next week. It'd been another failure. He continued this strange routine: have a ball at the bar, go home with an attractive man, and wimp out at the last second. Now it was apparent that whenever Eddie so much as  _ thought  _ about being with another man intimately, his veins would freeze and his heart would clench. If it was hard to be with a woman, it seemed it would be impossible for Eddie to be with a man. The same feeling that had come when he'd lost the ability to get hard at Myra's touch returned to him in the solitude of the bathroom. He felt broken. Physiologically, he was fine. His body still reacted to his own hand, and he woke on occasion to evidence that he was still able to go through "the male process." And yet, everything was wrong. 

The last time he left his mother he met Myra. She was such a sweet girl. She was patient and kind and politely ignored his shortcomings. He knew he had to go back into their bedroom and prove to her that he could show her love. After all, it was just biology, he could do it. He had to. He splashed his face with water and rubbed his eyes. 

Richie returned to his mind. He cursed to himself and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He opened Safari and searched for Richard Tozier. A five minute Youtube clip of a stand-up routine was the first result. There was also a Wikipedia page and an IMDb profile, but Eddie tapped on a headshot instead. Richie's face filled Eddie's tiny screen. Eddie clenched his jaw hard enough to feel it in his temples. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes tight.  _ Maybe,  _ he thought,  _ if I could just picture him…  _ No. That was wrong in every sense of the word. It was unfair to Myra and it was unfair Richie. He couldn't help it though. Myra would be concerned if he couldn't get it up. And so, for the first time since he was a teenager, Eddie thought about his best friend naked. It worked. Eddie let himself get lost inside his mind for a minute and felt arousal pool in his stomach. Then Myra knocked on the door and he was back to reality. Ice hit his bloodstream. 

"Just a second, Marty!" he called, heart pounding like a teenager caught in the act. He turned his phone all the way off and shoved it back into the pocket of his pajama pants. All traces of an erection had wilted. He bit the inside of his cheek and opened the door. 

He didn't protest when Myra handed him a little blue pill. He was able to have sex with her after that. 

 

4

 

Eddie was back on the job the next evening. The night wasn't quite as slow as it had been the day before and Eddie drove three supermodels, a music producer, and an actor of some esteem before ten o'clock rolled around. He was about to call it a night and head home when his phone buzzed with another ride request. He pulled over and read the message. 

_ Client name: Richard T.  _

_ Location: Flaming Saddles Saloon - NE corner of 9th and 53rd _

_ Time: ASAP _

_ Destination: Gramercy Park Hotel _

_ Notes: May be in the company of a male companion. UIA and possibly UII. Extra discretion is pertinent.  _

Eddie felt panic in his bones, but didn't give himself the time to think twice before putting the car in drive and heading to the bar. Flaming Saddles Saloon was not only a gay bar, but it was a  _ wild west-themed  _ gay bar. Of course Richie would find himself there on his second night in the city. Not to mention not the UIA (Under the Influence of Alcohol)  _ and  _ the UII (that would be Inhalants). Was it really surprising that Richie was doing poppers? Well, if he was truly with a  _ male companion _ ... Eddie had to calm himself to continue driving safely. Even if the simple thought of Richie had been torturing him for twenty four hours, there was no way Eddie wasn't going to make sure he got to his hotel safe. Without thinking about it, Eddie pulled off his wedding ring and shoved it in his pocket. 

Eddie didn't have to wait for him this time. Richie was standing on the corner in front of the bar in a tank top, bell bottoms, and a plastic cowboy hat. He was alone. Eddie stopped the car in front of him. When Richie beamed when he saw him. He pulled out the confirmation number on his phone, waited for the car to unlock, and hopped in the back seat.

"Howdy!" he called as he made himself comfortable. 

Eddie stiffened. "Are you waiting for someone?" 

Richie looked at him confused. "Should I be?" He laughed.

"Uh, no. Sorry. It's just that when your agent arranged the ride, she said that there might be someone with you."

"Oh, Carole has too much confidence in me, methinks." Richie's words were slurred a little bit and he disregarded his hat to the empty seat next to him. 

"Right. Would you prefer the divider up or down?"

"Didn't we go over this yesterday? Keep it down, my good man."

"Yes sir."

"Cut that crap too, why don't you?"

"Ok."

Richie let the car fall silent for a minute. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the window. Eddie caught a glimpse of him in the mirror and wondered if he'd passed out.

"Uh, Richie?"

Richie's eyes popped open. "What did you call me?"

Eddie's breath picked up. "Your name is Richard, right? I'm sorry, I just assumed you liked to be called Richie. I'm sorry." Eddie internally cursed himself.

"Oh. Uh, it's fine. I just haven't been called that in years. I just go by Rich." Something inside Eddie's heart sank. 

Eddie reached the hotel and pulled onto the curb. "Have a good night Rich." Eddie said, trying for a kind smile.

Rich made his way to get out, before stopping. "You can call me Richie." Eddie thought Richie might've been blushing, but he wrote it off as the flush of alcohol. "I mean I'm gonna be in the city for a few days and my agent wants me to use Premier whenever I go out. She keeps me on a tight leash, you know? Anyway, I don't see why we shouldn't get chummy. Can I request you as my driver? I had someone else drive me earlier and he wasn't half as cute as you." 

Eddie cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Just tell your agent to ask for me by name when she files a request. I typically only drive in the evenings, but I get to make my own schedule, so if you need me earlier."

"Sweet," Richie gave a lopsided grin. "What's your name?"

"Sorry?"

"Your name. You said I should tell my agent to ask for you."

Eddie could feel the skin of his brow tighten. This was it. He couldn't pretend to be some anonymous little man anymore. What if Richie remembered him? He wanted for Richie to recognize him so badly and yet he was terrified at the prospect. The dam of his past was already leaking. He didn't know if he could handle it breaking. 

"Edward. My name is Edward."

Richie took his hand off the handle of the door. His face slackened. Eddie could almost see the veil of clouded memories dancing between the two of them. It could rip at any moment.

"Edward." Richie tested the word on his tongue. Then, he smiled a drunken grin. Any hint of recognition was glazed over by inebriation. He picked up that awful, tacky cowboy hat and reached into the front seat to place it on Eddie's head. They were close enough to share each other's air. Eddie didn't dare to move a muscle. "Keep it, partner." Richie gave Eddie a wink and then he was gone into the night. 

His phone dinged. 

_ Ride Receipt _

_ Ride cost: $45 _

_ Tip: $20 _

_ Rating: Three stars _

Eddie was going to go bug shit. 


	3. Penny in the Air

#  Chapter Three: Penny in the Air

1

 

Eddie awoke at seven on Monday morning to the sound of his phone dinging. 

_ Client name: Richard T.  _

_ Location: Gramercy Park Hotel _

_ Time: 10:00 a.m. _

_ Destination: Rockefeller Plaza; Studio 8H _

_ Notes: Please make sure client has eaten before drop off.  _

Eddie studied the message. His pupils contracted almost violently at the sudden barrage of light in the darkness of his bedroom. The request wasn't terribly uncommon. The truth of the matter was that Premier drivers often doubled as the babysitters of the rich and famous. Don't let them get caught with drugs, make sure they eat, keep them from getting into too much trouble – it was all part of the job. 

Myra gasped in her sleep. Eddie put his phone down and adjusted her sleep apnea mask to fully cover her face. She breathed easier. 

Eddie reached into his bedside table drawer, hoping to find his regular inhaler, but instead his groping fingers found the hard corner of Bill's book. He pulled his hand back as though he'd been burnt. Myra's machine whirred louder. Eddie turned on his lamp, snatched his inhaler, and plunged it three times.  _ Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.  _

He couldn't drive Richie anymore. For his own sanity, he couldn't. He needed to just assign another one of his drivers to be Richie's chauffeur for the week, because Eddie knew he simply couldn't take it. He realized now that he'd been playing a game the past two nights. It was a game on himself: watch Richie from a far and pray. Pray for what? Remembrance? Forgiveness? Validity? Whatever it was, it had kept Eddie from running as far away from Richie as he could and because of that, it was dangerous. 

Eddie grabbed a clean towel and left Myra asleep in bed to take his morning shower, resolving to redirect the request to Demetrios, who was now, thanks to Richie, Premier's highest rated driver. 

 

2

 

Eddie ate plain toast for breakfast. Well, he actually ate two slices of plain toast, a glass of thick green liquid sans ice, tablets of vitamins E, C, and B, (simple, complex,  _ and  _ 12); supplements of iron, fish oil, and calcium, and of course, two types of daily multivitamins, just in case the rest of his pills didn't do their jobs. Myra ate two bowls of cereal topped with cream, three slices of toast with butter and jam, two eggs (once scrambled, the other poached), four sausages, five strips of bacon, and a snack cake. They were both proud of what they perceived to be their own perfectly healthy meals. 

"I love you, Eddie," Myra smiled as she put the dishes up. She was still in her nightgown and had unbuttoned the top three buttons so that a large patch of skin was at Eddie's eye level. 

"Hm?" Eddie was too busy staring intently on the last bit of juice in his glass to hear what she'd said.

"I said I love you."

"Oh," he looked up and faced her breast, "I love you too, Marty." His words didn't reach his eyes, but Myra didn't seem to notice. In fact, she floated around the kitchen with an easy smile.

She stalked behind him, bent down, her knees struggling a bit, and whispered into Eddie's ear as though she were telling him a dirty secret, "It's good that we're being intimate with each other again." 

The warm heat from his wife's lips made Eddie shudder. 

"I was scared we wouldn't ever be with each other in that way again," Myra continued. It hadn't occured to Eddie two nights earlier that Myra would continue to want sex. He'd simply braced himself with putting on a one night act and then going back to their normal, sexless, marriage. He felt stupid now. Of course Myra was going to want start being intimate regularly again. Eddie's collar felt tighter. "I know it's early, but I thought we could try for round two." Myra reached into the pocket of her nightgown and produced a plastic orange bottle with Eddie's name on it. He wondered when she'd renewed his prescription for Viagra, but he didn't ask.

Eddie shrank in his chair. "Oh, uh, um," he sputtered, "the thing is…"

"What's wrong Eddie? Don't you love me?"

"Yes! Of course I do! It's just that you're not supposed to take more than one of those pills in a twenty-four hour period. It's bad for your blood pressure" He smiled weakly. 

"Oh," Myra said, looking dejected. "Well, we could try going natural again." She perked back up. "I could use my mouth–" Eddie pushed his chair out from under the table, accidentally hitting her in the hip. She cried in pain. Eddie jumped up.

"Oh, shit. Marty, baby I'm sorry." Myra's jowls warbled. "I just remembered I have to work early today."

"But sweetie, you  _ never  _ work mornings!" Myra cried, now on the verge of tears.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that a client requested me to be the one to drive them all week." She didn't look convinced. Eddie continued, "And, uh, they're really important so if I don't do it they could tell all their friends that we aren't a good company and then the business could go under."

"Oh no! Who is it?"

"Who is who?"

"The client. You said they're important."

_ Shit. _

"Oh, it's…"  _ think, think, think,  _ "It's Oprah."

"Oprah Winfrey?!" Myra practically shouted.

"Yes dear. I'm going to be driving Oprah Winfrey all week long. She's being very private these days, so it's important that you don't tell anyone."

"I won't, Eddie. I would never do anything you didn't want me to." She smiled again. "I can't believe you're going to be driving her. You'll get me her autograph, won't you honey?"

"Of course!" Eddie mentally admonished himself for digging himself deeper and deeper into the hole he'd created. 

Myra looked like she was about to make another move on him and Eddie shrank back.

"I better go get dressed. She needs me to pick her up at 10:00."

Myra's eyes widened as she looked at the time. It was already 8:45 and she knew it took Eddie at least an hour to get into the city with the morning traffic. "You better get going, Eddie-bear! Do you want me to pack you a lunch?"

Eddie was about to say no and scamper up the stairs, but then he thought back to Richie's agent's request.

"Do we have any bagels left?" Myra nodded. "Good. If you could wrap up one of those and maybe put some orange juice in my canteen, I'd be really thankful, Marty."

In lieu of an answer, she grabbed Eddie by the neck and kissed his cheek with a wet smack. 

 

3

 

"Eat up," Eddie tossed the bagel wrapped in paper towels and cling wrap in the back seat as Richie got into his car.

"Woah!" Richie caught the bagel mid air. "What's this?"

"Your agent was worried you hadn't had breakfast."

"So you brought me some?"

"It's my job."

"If you say so."

Eddie stretched his arm back to hand Richie the bottle of juice. He bent himself in such a way that allowed for him to keep his eyes on the windshield. If he was going to do this, he couldn't look at Richie face to face. 

"So, did you have another bad night?"

Eddie responded at breakneck speed. "What do you mean by that?"

"You were wearing a wedding ring the first night you drove me. It was gone last night and it's gone again today."

Eddie forced a scoff. "I'm surprised you were able to remember. You weren't exactly sober minded."

"Wowza! Edward hits back!"

"Excuse me. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm sorry."

"Oh come off it. I'm just fooling around. From here on out, just act like we're pals."

"Pals?"

"Yeah. Just hanging out and getting a few chucks." 

Eddie's heart clenched. "I prefer to keep it professional."

"Oh. Boo. I think you, sir, have been in the service business too long."

"I'll have you know, I'm the CEO. I don't need your hundred dollar tips and I don't need your pity." Eddie spat, unable to contain himself any longer. 

"Ok, Mr. Sass! Are we on Undercover Boss here? I don't see any cameras. Or am I just so important that they had to get the boss to come drive me around?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I just like driving."

"Alright, ok, you got me." Richie refocused on his bagel. "Thanks for the food. You didn't have to."

"Like I said. It's part of the job."

"Really? You might be the only CEO in the world who spends his days fetching other people breakfast."

"Beep-b–" Eddie cut himself off. It'd come almost like second nature. Richie Tozier is being a dick? Just beep him! You bet your fur it'll quiet him. 

"What did you say?"

"Huh?"

"Just then. You were saying something."

"Was I?" Eddie was sweating now. He caught Richie's reflection in the mirror. The man's skin was bone white. 

_ (Not bone white. Grease paint white! Isn't that right, girly boy? Do you think he wants to float?) _

Eddie swerved out of his lane. 

"Shit!" he exclaimed. The car next to him got out of his way just in time, giving Eddie his own literal beep-beep. 

Richie didn't even seem to have noticed. He was busy staring at the back Eddie's head with something between horror and amazement. 

Eddie pulled up to the studio.

"Here we are!" He clicked the doors unlocked and Richie snapped out of his trance.

"Right. Thanks."

Richie left the car without another word.

Almost immediately after he was gone, Eddie's phone dinged. It wasn't a review this time, nor a tip. It was another request.

_ Client name: Richard T.  _

_ Location: Rockefeller Plaza; Studio 8H _

_ Time: 8:00 p.m. _

_ Destination: Gramercy Park Hotel _

_ Notes: None.  _

It appeared that Richie hadn't been joking when he'd said that his agent kept him on a tight leash. 

 

4

 

Eddie returned to the Rockefeller Plaza at eight o clock sharp. Richie flashed his confirmation number and got into the car without a word or a smile. He bounced his leg anxiously in the back seat. Eddie looked on with worry.  _ Treat him like a pal. Who cares that he was once your best friend and that you got hard thinking about him? He wants you to treat him like your pal! _

"How was your day?" Eddie asked as he headed towards the hotel.

"It was ok."

"Alright." 

Richie didn't elaborate and Eddie didn't prod. 

When they stopped at a red light, Eddie tried again, "Are you feeling alright tonight, Richie?"

"I'm tired." 

"I'm sorry."

Richie's leg bounced faster and soon his toe was tapping a manic rhythm in the floor of Eddie's car. 

"So, you're in the city for a week? What are you doing over here? You said you're a comedian. Do you act? Write? Do stand-up?"

Richie looked at Eddie in the mirror and their eyes locked. Something horrible was lifted. Richie averted his eyes, cleared his throat, and put up a smile.

"All three, actually. Rich Tozier's my name, comedy is my game. I helped write some skits for SNL today. I've got more of that tomorrow and the next day. Thursday's off for me. Then I'm recording my first big HBO special at the Apollo on Friday." Eddie recognized that the voice Richie spoke in was not his own. No, it was his greatest impression of all. It was his I'm-Alright voice. 

Eddie pulled into the hotel, but Richie made no move to get out of the car.

"We're here," Eddie said gently.

"It's only eight. I'm not checking in for the night this early. You know, this is a shit business model. My agent doesn't know where I want to go."

Eddie grit his teeth. "I set it up this way for the client's benefit. You're supposed to relay the information to your agent so they can set it up on your behalf, but you're not bound by what they say–"

"Let's get a drink."

"I'm sorry, what?"  
Richie laughed. "You said I'm not bound by what my agent says and I want to go to a bar, so take me to one."

"Where would you like to go?"

"Where do  _ you  _ like to go? Flaming Saddles was fun and all, but it was a bit too kitschy, even for me. I want to know where Edward the CEO likes to get his kicks. Oooh! Let me guess. Leather bar? Chippendales? Twink club?"

"I'm not gay."

"Bullshit."

"Get out of my car." Eddie gripped his steering wheel so tight that his nails pierced the leather cover. 

"No."

"I said, get out. This is my business and I want you out of my car."

"What, because I know you're gay? Who the hell do you think you're fooling,  _ Edward _ ?"

Eddie whipped his head back. Angry tears were threatening to spill.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Go to a bar with me."

"Richie…" Eddie was thrown onto a tightrope and he could feel his feet wavering. His heart was pounding, cold sweat was pooling at his pores, his stomach felt poorly, and Richie's eyes were boring into his soul. Richie wasn't high this time. There was no veil. He couldn't tell if Richie recognized him or not. The tightrope tensed underneath him. He let himself fall. "Do you know who I am?"

Richie's expression eased and Mr. Alright came back. "You're the cutest driver in this town. Sorry I thought you were gay. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Eddie turned back to the windshield, panic slowly ebbing into something worse. "It's okay Mr. Tozier. We all make mistakes."

"I guess so."

"So, you want to go to a bar?"

"That depends. Am I un-kicked out of your car?"

"Yes."

"Well in that case, to the local tavern, my liege! No gayness required. Just somewhere with good music and better beer."

"Alright."

Eddie drove them away from the hustle of midtown and to small cubby of a place in the West Village. Eddie'd been there a few times the second time he left his mom.

He stopped the car. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

"You're not coming?"

"You were being serious?"

"As a heart attack. I'm sorry for being an ass earlier. I don't know anyone up here and to tell you the truth I'm a lonely man, Edward. I'd offer to pay you for your time, but as you said, you're the CEO. Take the rest of the night off and hang out with me. As pals." There was no humor in his face. 

"Ok. I need to park though. Why don't you go ahead. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes. This city isn't exactly known for its parking." Eddie tried a laugh. Richie tried a smile. 

"No it is not. Promise you're not just trying to ditch me? I can handle rejection."

"I'm not. Order me a beer." Richie didn't seem convinced. "Get it on tap, not in a bottle. And for the love of God, no IPAs."

Richie regained what might have been something genuinely happy. He got out of the car and saluted Eddie. "Aye, aye captain! Godspeed."

 

5

 

The bar hadn't changed much since the last time Eddie had been inside. The atmosphere was cosy and a bit intimate. Bar stools with cracked leather covers were squished a little too close to each other and the three booths were just a bit narrow. Richie was waiting for him in one of these booths.

"Over here, driver man!" Richie stood up and handed Eddie a glass of beer. Eddie took a sip. "Did I do good? It's Sweetwater."

"Very good." Eddie smiled and sat in the opposing seat. In a tangle of limbs, Richie sat back down too. There was no avoiding it now, they were face to face. Eddie chugged his beer. Richie followed, swigging his own ale even faster. 

Richie cleared his throat. "I'm gonna get something a bit harder. Do you want anything?"

"I'll take a gin-and-prune-juice."

"Are you serious?"

"I am! It's actually very healthy."

"You, sir, are missing the point of drinking. It's only fun when it's  _ un _ healthy."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"No thank you, I'm a bourbon man myself." With that, Richie smiled and got up to retrieve the drinks. Eddie used the minute he was alone to calm himself. Richie returned and handed Eddie his concoction. 

"I don't want to shock you, but for some reason, this fine establishment does not carry prune juice. I present thee with a cranberry and gin and tonic."

"Well then…" Eddie looked at his drink. It looked a bit like a Shirley Temple. He carefully pulled the three ice cubes out and wrapped them in a napkin. The cold burnt his fingers. "Soft teeth," he explained, looking up at Richie. "Bottoms up?" 

"That's the spirit!"

Two glasses tipped to the air. Eddie's nose fuzzed. He smiled. 

"So, you're a comedian. Tell me a joke. Give me some chucks."

"Where have you been? Jokes are over, man. Comedy is all about storytelling now."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Ok. Tell me a story."

"Just for you, lucky boy. This is going to be in the special, so keep it hush hush." Richie plucked the stirrer from Eddie's drink and held it between his teeth in a sort of old Hollywood imitation "Ok, ok! It's nice to be here in good ole' New York City with the insatiable Edward. We're hot tonight!" He reached across the booth and ruffled Eddie's hair. Richie looked like he was about to hop right into a story, but suddenly his face was overcome with some terrible stillness. Abruptly, he stood up and took both their glasses. "I'm gonna get us another round."

Eddie frowned.

"Just a water for me."

"Aw, come on. The night is young!"

"You seem to have forgotten that it's my job to drive you home."

"Damn! The adult world has come crashing down upon us!"

Richie returned with two bourbons. Eddie was about to protest, but Richie swung them both down the hatch before he could have a chance.

"Might want to pace yourself there," Eddie laughed weakly. 

The look of distant horror returned to Richie's face. 

_ Say something! Say something! Tell him who you are. If he doesn't remember, make him. This has gone on long enough. For the love of God, say something! _

"Richie–"

"I have to take a piss." Richie ran off to the bathroom leaving Eddie slack-jawed. 

When he returned pulled Eddie to his feet.

"Let's dance!" He held Eddie to his shoulder, beaming. "Come on!"

Eddie couldn't help but let himself be overtaken with a giddy laugh as Richie spun him. "We can't!" he exclaimed with a giggle.

"Oh and whyever not?" Richie said, twirling him again.

"We look like idiots! This isn't exactly a dancing bar." Eddie was painfully aware that the few other patrons in the establishment were looking at them.

"We  _ should _ look like idiots, driver man! Life is wasted otherwise. And besides, any bar is a dancing bar. You just have to make it one. You and me, dear Edward, we are on top of the world and no one can tell me otherwise, so let's just let loose and dance. Everyone else will follow, trust me."

"Ok! You convinced me." Eddie grinned. 

Their dancing really consisted of Eddie bouncing awkwardly from one foot to the other while Richie moved around him in quick, spastic movements. Eddie didn't know the song, but it didn't matter. The beat was amenable and reach clapped in perfect rhythm, smiling wildly. Richie'd been right. Soon everyone else was dancing too and the little hole in the wall bar could've been discotheque. 

Eddie stilled for a minute, just watching Richie in the seen he'd created. He was lost in the music and didn't seem to give a damn about how stupid he looked. It was beautiful. The bags melted from under his eyes and his face seemed to smooth out to that of a teenager.

_ (You like that, huh cocksucker?) _

A bead of sweat clung to his brow.

_ (I'll blow you!) _

His blue eyes glimmered in the low light. 

_ (You're sick.) _

Wait. Were his pupils that big when he'd gone to the bathroom or was it just the light?

Richie's dancing wilted suddenly. He draped his head on Eddie's shoulder and whispered into his ear, "I gotta make another bathroom run. Keep the party going, would ya?"

Richie was gone before Eddie could stop him. He pushed through the small crowd of dancers, running after him. The bathroom must've been a private one though, because the door was locked. Eddie pounded on the door.

"Just a minute, buddy!" Richie called from the other side. 

Eddie hit the door again with his fist in frustration. So what if Richie was doing blow? Who was he to judge? A friend? No, he couldn't claim that title anymore. It'd been too long. And yet, dancing with Richie had made it feel that no time had passed at all.

Richie sauntered out of the bathroom, sniffing his nose and shaking his head a bit frantically.

"Driver man! Ready for another dance?"

"Are you high?"

"What?" Richie pulled out a little bag of powder. "Do you want some? What the hell, I'll share."

"No thanks."

Richie shrugged and grabbed Eddie's hand pulling him back onto their makeshift dance floor. Eddie took his hand back. 

"I don't want to dance anymore," he said bluntly, his knees locking.

"What? 'Cause I did a little powder?" For a second, it looked like Richie might've regretted causing that look of disappointment on Eddie's face. "Well boo-hoo. I'll just have to find someone else."

Richie tapped on the shoulder of a twenty-something-year-old girl who was thrilled to dance with him. She recognized him from a routine he did on The Late Show and Richie smiled a Mr. Alright smile as he signed her an autograph. Eddie watched, his heart sinking, as he dipped her. He thought he heard Richie call her 'good-looking' too and that was too much. After the song finished, he pulled Richie aside.

"Look, it's getting late. You said you're working again tomorrow. Don't you think it's time I take you back to your hotel?"

"Is that an invitation?" Richie laughed, but Eddie was not amused. "Ok, let me just settle the tab."

"I'll go bring the car around." 

 

6

 

"Put the divider up."

Eddie's heart just about stopped. 

"Sorry?"

"You heard me, driver man. I want the divider up."

"Fine. Think you can at least do me the favor of promising not to do drugs in my car?"

"I'm not a fucking addict, if that's what you're asking."

Eddie put the divider up instead of answering. 

When they arrived at the hotel, Richie was out of the car before Eddie could lower the divider. Eddie was about to scream at the empty air when there was a knock on his window. Eddie rolled it down and was met with Richie's face. The man was crying.

"Richie…"

_ Say it! Say it now! _

"Fuck you, Eddie. You hear that?  _ Fuck you. _ Stop pretending you don't know who I am. My head is all fucked up, but it's you. I'm not going crazy. I  _ know  _ it's you. Please, for the love of God, say it's you."

_ Too late.  _

The penny dropped. 

The game was over.

It hadn't occurred to Eddie until now, but maybe Richie was even more scared than he was. 

Eddie couldn't deal with irreversible words this time. He drove away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who's left kudos and commented! You guys keep me right!


	4. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza. So this was originally going to be a much longer, much more eventful chapter, but I decided to break it into two smaller, more concise pieces. The good news of that is that I already have half of chapter five written, so that might be up tomorrow! Also, fair warning, this chapter contains some pretty heavy content so head the tags.

#  Chapter Four: Fear

1

 

_ Eddie fell through the floor. His weight collapsed on his arm and a horrible, aching pain shot through its entire length as he crashed through a table. He passed out.  _

_ When he came to, his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. His eyes rattled in their sockets. His arm hurt so bad that it seemed to surpass what his nerves could process. He brought his arm up. His lips shriveled around his teeth in an expression of pain and terror. He gulped the dirty air, no longer able to be concerned with its rancid smell.  _

_ His arm was distended at the center of his tibia and fibula. Both bones appeared to be completely broken. The lower half of his forearm flopped limply and his hand tingled dangerously.  _

_ He was alone. Bill was gone; Richie was gone. Terror pumped through his veins.  _

_ Then, the fridge on the other side of the room began to creak open. Black, necrosis-plagued fingers curled around the edge of the door like burnt wires, prying it open from the inside. Long, bony arms spindled through the crack and there it was: the leper. It was folded in on itself and it's hollow eyes were sunken into red sockets. Its skin was peppered with peeling lesions and yellow gunk seeped from its pores. Its nose seemed to have rotted off and a red contracting hole was left in the center of its face, dilating as the thing pulled air into its rattling lungs.  _

_ The leper's peering face erupted into a horrible, high-pitched laugh as it unwound its body. It stood from the fridge and twisted its emaciated torso back into place. It was wearing a silver clown suit with orange pom poms lining the bodice like a broken harlequin marionette. It shook its wet, stringy hair, the strands sticking to its rotting face.  _

_ Its cheeks were hollow and the skin that hadn't turned into black sores was deathly gray. It shook its head again and the bells on its suit jingled. A veil of paint appeared over its face. Its skin was now covered in white grease paint. The heavy makeup set into the ridges of its lesions. Its lips were covered in cherry red lipstick, forcing an unnatural grin that stretched all the way to the middle of its eyes and slashed those yellow hollows vertically. Its mouth contorted into a smile as it watched Eddie choke in fear. Its teeth were yellow and raised to a point. It laughed again.  _

_ "Eddie…" Its voice was low and sick, maybe even weak. "What are you looking for, Eddie?" _

_ It staggered one emaciated leg forward, its bandaged foot landing with a thud. Its other leg launched forward too, and it swung its arms as though it were in some manic pantomime. It warped its fingers into furry claws and its teeth grew longer as it howled another horrid laugh. Its tongue peaked out and flitted against its fangs in a way not dissimilar to Patrick Hockstetter.  _

_ Eddie found his voice and screamed a warbling cry for help.  _

_ Spit and blood dripped from its lips and it mocked him with a howl.  _

_ "No on is coming for you, Eddie. They know what you are. They know you're just like me. I was like you once and then I fucked a boy!" It snapped its moldy fingers, nails splintering as it did so. "Just like that! And now my bones are turning to mush and my skin is peeling from my flesh. My eyes are rotting out and maggots live in my throat. The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out! They'll eat your eyes and they'll eat your snout! Your skin will leak and your bones will creak! A big green worm with rolling eyes will crawl in your stomach and out your eyes! Pus will ooze out of your dirty mouth like sauerkraut! Your brain will tumble through your mouth! Oh yes, indeed!" The leper's face crunched like a dead flower and shriveled clean off. Eddie shrieked. The headless torso curled backwards and appeared again through its legs with its head regrown. It was the clown now. It shook its head, bells jingling again, and it smiled. "I'll blow you. I'll do it for free. Everyone knows what you are so you might as well get it over with! Don't you want to taste my blood?" _

_ Eddie scrambled away as quick as he could with his lame arm. Tears like tar poured from his eyes. His back hit the wall and he had nowhere else to go. It grabbed his arm and waved it like a toy. Eddie swore he felt shards of bone rattle.  _

_ "Help!" he screamed again. "HELP!" _

_ The clown shot its head forward into Eddie's face and let out a ripping shriek. Eddie took his good hand and tried to slap it away, but the thing just kept laughing at him, mocking his sobs. It grabbed his arm and threw it down. Its hands wrapped around Eddie's cheeks, pressing the soft flesh into his teeth.  _

_ "Time to float," it said in a giddy whisper. Eddie was completely lost in tears now. Sobs escaped his throat as the clown's fingers pinched his cheeks harder. "Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear!" _

_ It bared its teeth like daggers. Its golden eyes rolled back into its head as it lifted its jaw up and opened its mouth. Rows and rows of teeth, each as sharp as the last peeled forward, some catching the clown's lips and leaving them bloody. The bottom teeth pointed forward and out, as though they couldn't wait for their owner to press them into Eddie's skin.  _

_ This was when Richie and Bill were supposed to come in, right? They were going to save him. Beverly was going to stab the clown. They were going to fight it off. They had to. But the house was empty. Eddie's screams rattled throughout all of Derry, but no one heard them. The clown pressed a finger to Eddie's lips, silencing him. The fridge on the other side of the room began to rumble. _

_ "Just a hangnail," it pressed its finger inside Eddie's mouth, "one drop of blood is all it takes! Your mother says so! And little fags get it all the easier! If you bite my finger you'll swallow my blood and you'll die. AIDS FROM GOD YOU HELLBOUND HOMO! Everyone knows it! It says so on the bridge! When your mother watches you decay like me she'll know your a queer! The whole town will know!  _ But _ ," it withdrew its finger and waved it around, "if you come float with me, no one will ever know. You'll be just another missing child. People might even mourn you." It stuck the finger back through Eddie's lips and stroked his tongue. "Suck on my finger and I might even let you go!" It erupted into laughter. _

_ Eddie continued to sob. The fridge shook and rattled. Cubes of ice began to appear in the shelves of the ancient appliance. The cubes split and multiplied like bacteria and the ice rushed out of the fridge and onto the rotting wood beams. Soon, the entire floor of the derelict room was covered in ice so cold it showed no signs of every having been liquid water. The clown took his hands off of Eddie and picked up a cube. _

_ Then, Neibolt was gone. Eddie was sitting in his mother's kitchen. The yellow tiles mocked him as he desperately tried to catch his breath. The clown was still with him and held the ice cube in front of him with the leper's hands. _

_ "Suck," it told him and pushed the cube to Eddie's lips. _

_ "Help! Mom, help me!" his cries shrieked through his house. "HELP!" _

_ Sonia appeared. Her eyes rose thin and snake-like from beneath her glasses. Her skin was flushed red and perspiring. She tucked her chin into her neck and her hair fell in her face, foam curlers clinging to the back. Her body, the shape of large bloated bowling pin, swayed forward.  _

_ "Just what are you doing, Eddie?" she asked, voice dangerous. Calliope music erupted from the TV in the next room. Sonia's eyes glowered. "Are you trying to kill your mother?" Tears started to pour from her pitiful, sorrowless eyes. _

_ Eddie couldn't find words. The ice cube fell to the floor and shattered. Eddie braved a look at the clown, but it was gone. Richie was in Its place. _

_ "Eds? You told me she was going to be at work all day!"  _

_ Sonia grabbed Richie by the ear. "Now you listen to me you little faggot: you get out of my house and never come back! Eddie is done with you." Tears rolled down her fat cheeks.  _

_ "Mrs. K– I can explain!" _

_ "Get out!" _

_ Richie's eyes flickered yellow and his body shook as though a current of electricity had been sent through it; blood bubbled from his lips. He laughed. His buck teeth seemed longer than they ever had. All along his neck were deep purples and pinks – fresh hickies. Richie picked a pile of ice from the floor with long, black fingers that weren't his own. He pressed the frozen cubes into Sonia's hands. _

_ "You're gonna want these," Richie whispered to her, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. _

_ "No!" Eddie cried. "I'm sorry. Mom, I'm so sorry!" _

_ Richie was gone. Sonia grinned with flaking mica teeth.  _

_ "Take off your pants." She held the unmelting ice in her paws. "Eddie, you hurt me so much." Tears collected on the jut of her lip and mingled with snot. "You're so sick. I only want to make you better. Please, Eddie, please. My heart's own love, you must believe me." _

_ "Ma–" _

_ "You don't want to hurt your mommy, do you?" _

_ "Mom–" _

_ "Eddie, you know what happens to sick little boys. They rot, rot, rot! Homosexuals are dirty people. I know in my heart that you aren't one of them." She wrapped the ice in cheesecloth. "Take off your pants. You can keep your jockeys on, but you need to take your pants off." She pushed the bundle into Eddie's hands. "You need to make yourself numb." _

_ "Mom, please–" _

_ "Do it." A new voice appeared from behind Eddie. He turned his head and faced Myra.  _

_ His wife crossed the room and took her place next to his mother. They looked like sisters.  _

_ "Don't you love me?" they asked in unison, twin tears dripping down their fat faces.  _

 

2

 

Eddie screamed himself awake. Myra kept snoring into her CPAP mask.

Eddie's hand shot to his bedside table and grabbed his aspirator hard enough that his nails scraped the varnish off the wood and splinters embedded themselves under his nail beds. He held the device in his teeth, lips not daring to curl around the inhaler, and he pushed the trigger. Once he regained some sort of breath, he pulled Bill's book from the drawer, shot out of bed, and grabbed a pen from Myra's dresser. He hurried down the stairs and barricaded himself in the small bathroom. 

He sat on the lid of the toilet and flipped the book open. He was met with Bill's stoic face on the inside cover.  _ I remember. I remember. I remember and I cannot forget.  _ He pulled the cap off the pen with his teeth and wrote in the blank hardcover before the title page:

BILL DENBROUGH

STANLEY URIS

BEVERLY MARSH

BEN HANSCOM

MIKE HANLON

RICHIE TOZIER

EDDIE KASPBRAK

Once he saw all those names together, he threw up on the tile floor. He cleaned it up before Myra awoke. 

 

3

 

Later that morning, at breakfast, Eddie's phone dinged twice. Once with the long-delayed ride receipt from the previous night and once again with a new ride request.

_ Ride Receipt _

_ Ride cost: $350 _

_ Tip: $70 _

_ Rating: Five stars _

Eddie felt ready to puke again. 

_ Client name: Richard T.  _

_ Location: Gramercy Park Hotel _

_ Time: 10:00 a.m. _

_ Destination: Rockefeller Plaza; Studio 8H _

_ Notes: Client would like to formally apologize for events that he believed to transpire. The Agency of the Performing Arts does not assume liability for any damage caused by this client and we are not aware of any details. If you are considering banning the client from your service, please contact his agent first at (273)921-8723. Again, the client is relaying an apology and would like to continue patronizing your services.   _

"Is that Oprah?" Myra squealed over a cosmic brownie.

"Yes, dear."

"I simply can't believe it! Eddie-bear, you didn't get my autograph last night." Myra teared up.

"I'm sorry, dear."

"Will you get it for me today?"

"Yes, dear."

Myra squealed again and kissed Eddie's cheek.

Eddie grabbed a box of matches before he left. 

 

4

 

Eddie pulled his car in front of the hotel's lobby. 

Richie let out a sigh of relief, his weary eyes softening as he flashed his confirmation number.

"I take it you got the apology from my agent?"

Eddie stiffened. "Yes."

"Well, I want you to hear it from me in person. I'm sorry. I was a jerk. I had fun at the bar last night and I think you might've too. At least until I started being an ass. The blow I did last night must've been cut with something. I thought I recognized you from somewhere, but it must've been the high." Richie huffed. "Ok, I've said my piece. Do you forgive me, driver man?"

The ball was thrown in Eddie's court and he couldn't handle it. The memories that he'd recovered were still so jumbled. It was like someone had cut all the wires of his childhood and reattached them in the wrong places. Fear blanketed it all. His nightmare had felt so real and he knew he couldn't discount it all as his tortured imagination, and yet it was already beginning to fade as all dreams do. One thing was apparent though: something horrible and supernatural had happened to him. It had happened to them all. Because those names that had come to him, those names that were now safe in his book, they were real. And they were  _ good.  _ No amount of fear could tell him otherwise. He wasn't sure what was real and he didn't know how his memories had become so muddled, but he knew he had to fight it because somewhere buried in all the terror and pain there was a love so strong it had been able to stop it all. And somehow,  _ somehow,  _ the great hidden powers of the universe had brought him and Richie back together. He loved Richie with a love even greater than what had bound the seven. But he couldn't say it now. Not when they were parked in the middle of Manhattan. 

Eddie cleared his throat. "How mad would your agent be if you were late to work today?"

Richie furrowed his brow. "Oh, she'd be furious." He thought for a second and then smiled. "So where are we going?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thanks to everyone who's left kudos and commented! A comment a day keeps the writer's block away (is that a thing?)


	5. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie remembers and remembers and remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm gonna write an in depth character study about Eddie dealing with his sexuality and finding love with Richie.   
> Me to me: Make it supernatural.

#  Chapter Five: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

 

1

The Native American Caves of Inwood Hill Park were located at the very tip of Manhattan. Above all the skyscrapers and concrete, there were nearly two hundred acres of untouched land, including the last forests of New York City. The caves were in the middle of the park. They were composed of slats of long rocks used as living quarters by the Lenape Peoples in the 17th century before they were run out by the Mohawks, who in turn were later run out by the Dutch, who in turn were run out by the British, who in turn were run out by the colonists. But the caves still stood, isolated from the metropolitan surrounding them. New Yorkers rarely ventured up into the last vestige of natural landscape and tourists did so even less. If Times Square was the heart of Manhattan, then the caves were its uncorrupted soul. From there, you couldn't hear the city noise, but the rolling babbles of Spitting Devil Creek weren't too far away to notice. It took Richie and Eddie twenty minutes of hiking from where Eddie'd parked the car to reach the site. Eddie knew every vein and artery of the city and this hidden gem was his last piece of poetry. He'd never shown the caves to Myra; he'd always wanted them to just be for him. But now, they could be for Richie too. 

Richie let out a low whistle when they finally stopped. "Woo-wee. Well Mr. Driver Man, if you're going to shoot me, you sure found the best place for it! Who knew the Blair Witch was a New Yorker?" 

"Beep-beep, Richie."

Richie paled. It was too late to turn back. 

Eddie sat on one of the smoother rocks next to one of the larger cave's entrance and put his hands on his knees. A tall tulip tree dripped blossoms over the mouth of the cave. Richie sat next to him. 

"I had a nightmare last night," Eddie confessed after a while.

"Yeah?" Richie asked, with an edge of fear and caution, as though the next words could change the world. 

Eddie closed his eyes. "I dreamt I was a child again. And there was this thing, this  _ evil  _ thing, and it was coming for me. It knew all my fears and it wanted to feed on them." He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

"Eddie."

"Yes."

" _ Eddie _ . Open your eyes."

Eddie did. He was met with the endless crystal spheres that were Richie Tozier's irises. His pupils were nice and small in the peaking daylight. Sober. There was no longer any doubt in Richie's mind about who Eddie was. He should've look exhausted, but he didn't.

"When did you figure it out, Rich?"

"I don't know. I felt something in my bones when you used your inhaler the first night you drove me, but I wasn't sure. Its hurts to think about anything that happened to me before I turned sixteen, like it physically aches. Seeing you…

"Every time I thought it was you, this little flicker of light would go off inside my head, but it'd be gone before I could use it to illuminate anything. I just knew I had to see more of you. I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure. Then last night, when I came out of the bathroom with powder still on my nose you looked so  _ disappointed.  _ The thing is, when I moved away, no one was ever really concerned about me anymore. I think you were the last person to care." He sniffed, but this time he was holding back tears. "Anyway, I've been getting spliffed just to keep myself away from all these terrible thoughts. Keeping myself going, you know?"

"It's not just you. I've been having a bit of trouble remembering too. Hell, I've been having a lot of trouble. I'm just so scared."

The funny man was gone now. "Eds… what are you afraid of?"

"Oh. Nothing really. Just razor sharp teeth and kissing boys." If Richie couldn't keep the jokes coming, someone had to. After a second of tension, they both erupted into laughter.

"Is that right?" Richie asked, catching his breath. 

"Yeah. Maybe my mother, too." Eddie kept laughing. It was all just too chuckalicious. They'd forgotten their childhoods and yet they hadn't really changed at all. 

"How is the old mare?"

"Dead."

"Hm. And your wife?"

"Alive."

"Thought so." The cheer was gone now. "Is she good to you?"

Eddie cleared his throat. "I don't really want to talk about it, if that's alright."

"It's alright." Richie pulled one of the flowers from the tree and tucked it behind Eddie's ear. "What do we do from here? Play catch up? You've seen my life. I'm a bit of a mess, but I'm sort of happy."

Eddie took the flower from its perch against his temple and let it sit in his palm. He didn't want to talk about his life and didn't really want to hear about Richie's either. 

"Why three stars?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The first two times I drove you, you gave a three star rating. Until you, no one had ever given me anything less than a perfect five. Then, last night, when you actually maybe had reason to give me a low rating, you turn around and give me five stars. How the hell do you make your decisions?"

Richie laughed. "That's what you want to talk about?"

"Yes."

"Ok then. I gave you three stars because you were a good driver. When you click on the little rating thing on your app, it says three stars is good."

"Three stars is bad! Everyone knows five is good!"

"No, five is exceptional! Your app says so!  _ Three  _ is good."

"Bullshit!  _ Everyone _ knows that five is good! It's common knowledge."

"No way. Five means there's nowhere to go but up. If five was good, how would I rate a particularly amazing driver? That's why I gave you a five last night! You hung out with me and put up with my behavior.  _ That _ is exceptional."

"All I know is that people only want to be driven by five star drivers. You're lucky I have so many ratings that your three stars didn't sink me too far. And I'm an exceptional driver every time I sit behind a wheel, thank you very much."

"You don't even have those little water bottles! That would've earned you a four!"

"Little water bottles? Jesus Christ. What's the first thing I said to you before you even got into my car? Huh? I said, 'this isn't an Uber.' That means no  _ little water bottles. _ "

"Please, you only said that to me because you thought I was some vagrant."

"And I was right!"

Richie laughed.

"God, Eds. I've missed this."

"Me too." Eddie gave him a childish, lopsided grin that he hadn't had in twenty five years. Then, he frowned. "Wait. If I was so average, why the hell did you give me a $150 tip?"

Richie smiled and pinched Eddie's cheek and ruffled his hair. "You're just so damn  _ adorable _ !"

"Lord almighty. You really don't know car service etiquette."

"Why should I? Up till a few months ago, I drove my car wherever I went. No car service needed. My agent loved it, saved us all a pretty penny. Plus, I have a shiny red Corvette, not to brag."

Eddie rolled his eyes.  _ Of course  _ Richie would drive a Corvette. "And then what? Did you get too famous to do your own driving?"

"Ugh. I wish. My license was suspended."

"You got a DUI, didn't you? Mr. Not-an-Addict."

"I plead the fifth. I'm not always hopped up on coke, I swear it."

"And poppers?"

"Oh please, that shit is out of your system in seconds."

"I know."

"Of course you would."

"What does  _ that  _ mean?"

"What do you think it means? If I'm Mr. Not-an-Addict then that must make you Mr. Not Gay."

Eddie's skin burned. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Eds, who do you think you're kidding? Maybe you don't remember, but I seem to recall that you came out to me."

"I'm not gay." 

"Come on! You didn't  _ just  _ come out. No. You told me you loved me. You waited until I had to leave town for you to tell me!"

"You're misremembering."

"Oh no, buddy. You do  _ not  _ get to start that game again! You know what these past few days have been like? I've been going fucking nuts!"

"Can we talk about something else? Anything else! My whole life people have thought it was their right to speculate about my sexuality! I don't even know how we got to this asinine topic." Eddie clenched his jaw. 

"What the hell happened Eds–"

"Don't call me that."

"–you were the brave one."

"Oh that's your greatest joke yet! Trashmouth gets off a good one!"

"You were. Eddie, you were stronger than any of us. You told your mom off, for Christ's sake!"

"Fat lot of good that did!"

"Give it a rest. You're gay. I know it and you know it. Just say it out loud. I'm not telling you you have to leave your wife, that's your business. You just need to  _ say  _ it. You have to be brave, even if it's just for yourself."

Eddie opened his mouth, but swallowed his words. " _ I can't _ ."

"I don't get this. You know I like guys. I haven't exactly been hiding it, but I didn't even say it out loud until I was twenty three. You told me you were gay when you were fifteen. And now your saying your straight? Married to a woman? Don't treat me like I'm crazy. What changed? Huh? Did you go to one of those fairy camps? Did they electrocute the queer out of you?"

"Shut up!" Eddie shot up and brushed his trousers off. "You know, sometimes you joke too much." The cave's lips seemed to close in around them. Richie looked like he wished he could take back his words. He couldn't; they were irreversible. Richie stood too. 

"Eddie… that happened, didn't it?"

Eddie shook his head frantically. "I plead the fifth. If you get to, then I do too."

Richie tentatively held his arms out, but Eddie refused them. He took a breath of air and collected himself. 

"Do you think the others remember?" Eddie asked after a while. 

"The others?"

"Bill, Stan, Ben, Beverly, Mike. The others."

"God," Richie rubbed his face. "How could I have forgotten?"

"I don't know, but you did and so did I." Eddie reached into his pockets and pulled out his matchbox. "But I have an idea on how we can fix it."

"Smoke-hole." Some hidden wisdom forced itself from Richie's lips, almost as if the universe was talking through him. 

Eddie laughed. "I didn't remember what we called it, but yeah. We can't remember everything that happened to us and I don't think we'll ever fully understand unless we go back to Derry. I think Mike told me that once," Eddie said, looking at Richie with aching eyes. "My dream… it was bad. I think my whole adult life was shaped by what happened to us. Maybe yours was too."

"Mikey and I… we were the only ones who stayed in the smoke-hole long enough to see anything. You were the third out, Eds. After Stan the Man and Ole Haystack–" his eyes widened as though the nicknames had come from his throat without his brain sending the message. "You have asthma, don't you?" 

Eddie put the tulip down and took his emergency inhaler from his pocket. He sat it next to the flower. "No, I don't think I do."

Richie took the box of matches.

 

2

 

They built their makeshift smoke-hole in one of the caves. Eddie collected a bit of green wood and Richie found some sufficient stones. They covered the eyelid entrance with a thick layer of underbrush, leaving a little vent at the top. Richie burnt a $50 bill as kindling.

Thirty seconds in, Eddie's eyes stung and watered down his cheeks. 

Two minutes in, Eddie could feel the breathable air dwindle to a near complete stop. He tried to pace his breathing. Maybe he'd been right when he said he didn't have asthma, but even someone with perfect lungs is still susceptible to smoke inhalation.

Five minutes in, Eddie knew he had to get out. He looked across the fire, through the thick pea soup smoke. It was unbearable for him now. Richie, though, was sat with his legs crossed, his hands on his knees, and his eyes closed. Eddie imagined that his contacts must've been killing him, but Richie showed no signs of pain.

Six minutes in, Eddie lifted the bramble vent. He gasped in the sudden rush of fresh air. Richie opened his eyes with some unimaginable calmness.

"This was a bad idea," Eddie sputtered around a cough, "the smoke'll kill us."

"Wait outside," Richie said in a low voice that wasn't quite an impression so much as a way to keep the smoke from getting too deep into his lungs. "I can do this. I did it before and I can do it again. If you stay outside and you call for me but I don't respond, you can pull me out."

Eddie stuck his face closer to the vent before braving to speak again, "Are you sure? We're not kids anymore."

"I'll be ok. Something's going to happen. I can feel it. I have to do this."

"Ok. I trust you, but if you don't come out in five minutes, I'm pulling you out no matter what." 

With that, Eddie scrambled out of the smoke-hole, pushing the vent back in place behind him. 

Richie pushed all his air out of his nose. He floated. He was doing it, whatever 'it' was. He wasn't coughing as he had been when he'd done _it_ as a teenager. He was calm. Maybe years of party drugs and binge drinking had helped him after all, it'd built up his tolerance at least. White cotton smoke and thick black smog swirled together around his body. Richie didn't breathe at all. He thought he might be meditating. Everyone in the biz was always telling him to meditate, but they always made it seem superficial. This though, this must be the real stuff, that authentic Vedic shit _. _ The smoke-hole was good and hot, but Richie didn't feel it. Shadowsmoke kissed his skin. 

Then, he breathed. He didn't choke; didn't cough. He'd adapted. He could breathe the smoke like it was oxygen. For the second time in his life, Richie thought he might be from Venus. He laughed and the smoke tasted like sweet hash in a hookah. Honey wine. Orange milk. Richie threw more sticks into the fire. He smiled to himself and sucked the holy incense through his teeth.

Then, white hot pain shot through his hand.

_ "Swear it," _ he heard from everywhere and nowhere,  _ "Suh-swear if It isn't dead, if It ever comes back, we'll come back too." _

Richie brought his hand to the light of the fire, the flames almost beating purple, blue sparks flying. Across his palm, from the joint of his pointer finger to the heel of his palm was thick scar. It was so deep and so faded that it must have been there for years, decades even, only this was the first time Richie was able to see it. The scar split open into a fresh gash and Richie thought he might've screamed, but his lips didn't even part. Blood seeped from the wound to the beat of his heart and soon it was dripping. It dripped

 

꤃

 

_ upside down and into unreality.  _

_ His palm was still bleeding, seeping blood into the nothing he stood on.  _

_ A man on a bicycle whizzed past him. The world around him flashed into being. He was somewhere, a park it seemed. Another bike passed, only it didn't, it ran right through him. His body flickered between unreality and the park.  _

_ "Slow down!" The second biker, a woman, called after the first. Hair like fire flew in the wind. _

_ The man hit the breaks and dismounted his bike. The second biker caught up to him and disregarded her own bike.  _

_ "How the hell do you ride so fast?" She asked, panting. _

_ "I don't know," he smiled smug, "it just comes natural I guess." The man pulled the woman into a kiss. _

_ The woman was gorgeous, there was no other way to describe her. Her skin was the color of cream and not a bit blemished. Her nose was straight and smooth, regal almost. Her lips were deep pink, although it was clear she wasn't wearing makeup. She held her pleasant features in a commanding way, with an air of intelligence and nobility. She pulled away from the man and smiled with perfect, white teeth. Although her face was thin, she had dimples when she grinned at him. Her red hair rested upon her shoulders like a heavenly shroud. _

_ The man was tall. Bald, but not offensively so. His features carried the same confidence as the woman's and although he was handsome too, although not nearly as attractive as the woman. His body wasn't perfect, his skin was slightly uneven in its tanness, and his eyes could have been ten years older than the rest of him, but somehow his charm eclipsed this. More than the woman, he had an ethereal quality to him.  _

_ "Well if it isn't Big Bill!" Richie heard himself call. There was no fog in his unreality, Richie knew that the man holding the woman was their leader. "Rocking the old chrome dome, are ya?"  _

_ Bill's head snapped in his direction. An overwhelming look of terror hit his face, the charisma of his features falling for just a half of a second. _

_ "Bill? Bill, are you alright?" The woman asked. She seemed not to have heard Richie at all.  _

_ Bill's jaw quivered before he clenched it tight. He looked right past Richie. _

_ "Yes. I'm ok, Audra." His gaze bounced from behind Richie's left shoulder to behind his right one. It was almost as though there was a magnet on either side of him that pulled Bill's eyes from locking onto Richie. "I thought I heard something. Must've been the wuh-wuh-wind." _

_ The woman, Audra, cocked an eyebrow as though she were trying to regain the playful mood that had just been with them, but she couldn't conceal her expression of alarm. "Did you just stutter?" _

_ "No," Bill said firmly and returned his eyes to Audra. He smiled.  _

_ "Bill!" Richie called again. He ran towards his friend, but a sharp pain in his palm stopped him. Another drop of blood dripped _

 

꤄

 

_ onto ugly shag carpeting. A man stood in the center of the room among a stack of boxes with his hands on the hips of his blue bell bottoms. He pulled a pocket knife from his jeans and opened the box nearest to him. Out of the box, he lifted a rectangle wrapped in packing paper. Carefully, in an almost methodical sort of way, he unwrapped the object, a picture frame it seemed, and smiled at it with an easy grin.  _

_ He placed it on the coffee table and straightened it a few times before he was satisfied. Richie crossed the room to look at the photo. He tried to pick it up, but his hand passed right through. The picture was of the man, nearly twenty years younger, and his bride. The man looked happy.  _

_ It was Stan. There was no doubt in Richie's mind. Even if the man looked around the room with a cool confidence, he was still the charmingly particular boy from Derry.  _

_ Stan's phone chimed in his pocket and he answered it before it could complete its first ring.  _

_ "Patty," he smiled into the receiver. "Yes, I got here a few minutes ago. Yes, the movers took care of everything. It's all fine, dear. Everything is fine. I knew it would be." _

_ Richie approached Stan. He placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, but felt it fall through. Stan did not freeze or shudder or shake. It seemed like he didn't feel Richie's presence at all. Then, so subtle it would have been missed by anyone else, Richie saw Stan's jaw clench and his hand tighten around his phone.  _

_ Richie pulled his hand away when another ring of pain overtook him. He looked at the ugly gash on his palm and shook it. A thick rolling bead of blood dripped from his flesh and onto _

 

꤅

 

_ The counter of a bar. A thin, almost lanky man was the only patron. _

_ "Another beer, Ricky Lee," the man spoke to the barkeep. _

_ "You got it Mr. Hanscom. You want a PBR or an Olympia?" _

_ Ben. It was Ben. Lord almighty, he'd lost all the weight and then some. His eyes were a bit hollow and tireder than Bill's were. He was wearing a Alabama Crimson Tide t-shirt and well-worn jeans.  _

_ "I'll take an Olympia this time, thanks," Ben said, looking down at his hands.  _

_ Richie walked through the counter. He was starting to learn the rules of unreality, and he knew that if he grabbed a bottle of booze, his hand would pass through as easily as he had through Stan's shoulder, but there wasn't anything he wouldn't give for a drink. He looked at the barkeep, Ricky Lee. There was an air of familiarity between him and Ben. Yet Ben was lonely, perhaps painfully so. Richie took a breath of absent air and stepped into Ricky Lee's footsteps. If Ben wouldn't be able to see him, maybe Richie could pretend. _

_ "You know Rickie Lee–" Ben looked up and stopped dead in the middle of his sentence. His jaw froze. _

_ "Hey Haystack!" Richie screamed, "It's me! Trashmouth! Look at me!" _

_ "Is something wrong, Hanscom?" Ricky Lee spoke at the same time. _

_ "No." Ben returned his gaze to his hands and saw that they were ever-so-slightly shaking.  _

_ Richie slammed his hand on the counter, but it passed right through and blood dripped _

 

꤆

 

_ Into a sink where it mingled with another trail of blood that wasn't his own. Richie looked up and saw a woman who looked very much like Audra Denbrough staring in the mirror. Her hair was somehow redder than Audra's and it waved into perfectly brushed loose curls. She was wearing makeup. Beautiful. Put together. Everything about her screamed "I got this," except for her split lip. She spat more blood into the sink and it swirled down the drain. For some awful reason, it was the blood that made Richie realize the woman he was watching was Bev.  _

_ "Alright Beverly," she spoke to her reflection, hands curling around the sink's edge. "You're fine. You're fine. You're fine." She brought a thin finger up to examine her lip.  _

_ The door opened. A man with a body like a brick watched her from the threshold, but Bev didn't dare turn to face him.  _

_ "I hate having to do this to you, Bevvy," he gave her a slimy smile, "You know I hate it when you smoke. If you would only listen–" _

_ "Tom, I'm sorry–" _

_ The man grabbed her by the hair hard enough for Richie to hear some strands rip from her scalp.  _

_ "I was talking! How many times do I have to teach you?!" the man screamed in her face.  _

_ "Get off of her!" Richie heard his voice bounce around the bathroom. He lunged at the man and fell through him and landed flat on his ass. He shot back up, trying to brace himself on the corner of the sink, but his hand sliced through it like air. Richie screamed a horrible, frustrated cry. "Don't you touch her, you piece of shit!! Get off her!" he tried again. He swung a hook to the man's face to no avail. He tried to push him, only to stumble again.  _

_ Tom hooked Beverly square in the jaw and she must've bit down on her tongue because more blood sprayed from her mouth.  _

_ "Bev!" Richie shouted, his vocal chords numbing. His palm ached. "No, no, no," he cried to himself "I can't leave her! I can't–"  _

_ Another drop of blood swirled to the ground and  _

 

꤇

 

_ Into nothing. There was nothing in front of him; nothing behind. Nothing above and nothing below. It wasn't white or black – it was nothing at all. A thin humming radiated through the nothing.  _

_ Richie curled in on himself in the nothingness; his body rested on the soft absence. He brought his hands to his face and found he was wearing glasses. His hands were small; young. His body was thirteen. His mind flickered between adulthood and childhood. His skin burned. Richie took his glasses off and tossed them into the void. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Blood from his palm smeared onto his cheek.  _

_ Then there was a pair of strong hands on his shoulders.  _

_ "Eds–" he turned around. It wasn't Eddie. It wasn't anything at all. Calliope music played.  _

_ Then, in a flash of light, he was back into being. More specifically, he was in a living room. Small and dark, but almost charming. There was drug paraphernalia on the coffee table – syringes, a silver bowl, an eye dropper, foil, a lighter, and a little bag of smack. It was the hard stuff. If Eddie thought coke was bad, he would probably choke at the sight of good, Mexican black tar. Richie reached out to touch it and was surprised when he felt it beneath his fingers. _

God,  _ he thought,  _ this is it. I've let myself go too far. I'm not in New York, I never was. I'm still in L.A. and I've finally done it. Now I'm in purgatory. I've overdosed. I've fucking killed myself and now my brain's given me a nice little show as I die. I mean a smoke-hole in Manhattan? What a laugh. And Eddie? Hilarious. Friends? Wowza. I always did like to torture myself!  _ The hands were on his shoulders again.  _ What now? Oh! Let me guess: I'm going to be eaten by a big, greasy monster. Have a nice day, Rich! You've spent your life having too much fun and this is what you get. 

_ "Richie." _

_ Richie squeezed his eyes shut before opening them and turning to look behind him.  _ Get it over with kid! Let the boogeyman take you! 

_ There was no boogeyman. It was just a man, a human man with tired eyes. He was small, thin. He stood at maybe 5'7 but he still towered over Richie's thirteen year old body. His skin was deep and his face was kind and strong. He was handsome, but his countenance was rough. _

_ "Mikey?" Richie whispered through crazed tears.  _

_ "It's okay Richie." _

_ "Am I dying?" _

_ "No, Rich. You're lying on the floor of a park on the tip of Manhattan. You're unconscious from smoke inhalation because you're thirty eight and still a goddamn idiot, but you're not dying. In eighty three seconds, Eddie is going to hold smelling salts to your nose and you'll wake up. You're chest is going to feel like you've smoked five hundred cigarettes and you might throw up, but you'll be fine." _

_ "What's… Where… What's happening, Mike?" _

_ "You slipped into the macroverse. I'm impressed. I didn't think it could be done outside of Derry." _

_ "I saw the others! Where did they go? They couldn't see me, but you can. Beverly… she needs help. Mike we have to–" _

_ "We can't. The man you saw hit her is her husband. She has friends who have been trying to convince her to leave him for years, but she has to make that decision for herself. I wanted too save her too, but we can't.  _ _ The universe is already cracked from you and Eddie remembering each other.  _

_ "I've stayed in Derry this whole time. I was the last one left and I had to stay. I never forgot what happened. A few years ago, I discovered how to reach the macroverse. I live a normal enough life, but sometimes I have to monitor you guys, just in case one day I have to bring you all back." _

_ "How–?" _

_ "I started using a few years ago." Mike gestured to the drugs. "One by one, you all left and your memories scabbed over what we faced. The universe won't let me leave though. I'm okay with that, really I am. The drugs let me seeing things. The turtle shows me what I need to see." _

_ "Mike, you're tripping. You're gonna kill yourself on that stuff." _

_ "Maybe. But it's safer than the smoke-hole and someone has to keep a look on everything. I don't think It's dead." _

_ "The clown. Pennywise." It wasn't a question.  _

_ "Yes." _

_ "What do we do?" _

_ "Nothing. Not yet anyway. I promised myself I would only contact you if I knew It was still alive for sure. It's been twenty-five years. We'll know for sure soon enough and if It isn't dead, I'll bring you all back. But you shouldn't have to face the horror again if you don't have to. That's why you forgot, my grandfather was right. Derry is cursed. The universe did you a favor by letting you all forget. You all were able to lose Its grasp on your minds, but at the cost of our friendship. The universe couldn't let you have both. You and Eddie meeting again, that was a slip." _

_ "That's crazy. This whole thing is crazy. We loved each other! I've never loved anyone as much as we all loved each other. Eddie and I... we may not have remembered, but It's still affecting us. We weren't saved from anything. The universe is bullshit. If I'd gotten to chose, I would never have forgotten you or any of the others, no matter the price. I would have chosen us a million times." Richie started to hyperventilate, his lungs started to burn and contract.  _

_ "You shouldn't have done the smoke-hole. I know it seems unfair, but getting away from Derry's grip was a gift. I should know." Mike gave him a light, sad smile. "It's good to see you, though. I'm glad I got to talk to you." _

_ "That's it? I need to do something! Mike, tell me what to do." _

_ "You can't do anything. You're going to wake up now." _

_ Light creeped into the room and Richie could hear birds singing.  _

_ "Tell me what to do!" _

_ "Love Eddie. I don't know why, but the universe is giving you two a chance. No matter what happens in two years, you at least have now. I say you should take it. Now wake up and forget we talked. I love you Rich,and because of that, I pray I never have to see you again. This is what you do: stay safe and love Eddie. Love him." _

_ The light flashed intensely violet. Mike's eyes rolled back and glazed white. He fell on the couch and convulsed against the cushion.  _

_ "Mike!" Richie called, trying to reach him.  _

_ Reality crashed.  _

_ The air around Richie warped as though it were a three dimensional projection. The walls flattened and flickered, fading away. Richie tried to grab onto something, anything, and his hands  _

 

8

 

gripped the underbrush at the cave's entrance.

Richie awoke and threw up on Eddie's shoes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read that Muschietti wants to have grown-up Mike be all angsty and use drugs to discover the ritual of Chüd and I've been kind of obsessed with that idea ever since. Mike is my secret fave and deserves all the love and character development.
> 
> Sorry for being a dirty liar over how long this chapter would take to put up and super thanks to all my commenters, kudosers, and bookmarkers <3


	6. The Little Man Who Wasn't There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WhaT wHAt WHAT I'm actually updating? How could that be? I took a little break to decide what I wanted to do with this story and now it's suddenly two weeks later. Whoopsy. Now that I'm back into the ~swing of things~ hopefully I'll get back to regular updates. A big 'ole super thanks to every who's still out there!

 

#  Chapter Six: The Little Man Who Wasn't There

 

1

 

"You're awake," Eddie breathed, unable to process the vomit on his loafers. "Thank God. Are you okay? Can you breathe?"

"I'm fine," Richie croaked. He smiled at Eddie. ”Do you want to go get lunch?"

"Lunch? Richie, what the hell happened? Did you see anything?"

"Yes. I… I don’t know.” Richie fell into a coughing jag. "The smoke really roughed me up."

"This was a stupid idea. I don't know why I thought it would work."

"It did work." Richie rubbed his eyes and let out a deep moan. "Geez. I'm gonna need a minute."

Richie sat back on the rock and looked into the cave where the smoke was still dying down. A series of barking coughs ripped from his chest until his face turned red. Eddie thrust his emergency inhaler into Richie's hands, but it was refused. 

"I'm fine," he assured, "or I will be."

"What did you see?"

“It’s gone.”

“What? What’s gone, Richie?”

“What I saw… I can’t remember.” Richie squeezed his eyes shut tight, said a little prayer, and then opened them to look at his hand. A jagged, glass-cut scar sat like an ugly grin across his palm. It hadn’t been there before. It simply  _ hadn’t.  _ Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand.

“Richie, what–“ Eddie gasped. A matching scar had appeared across his own palm.

Richie dropped Eddie’s hand and dug in his pockets. He pulled out a small, bright yellow bottle.

"You're not seriously going to start doing poppers right now, are you?"

"I sure as hell am." Richie unscrewed the bottle and inhaled desperately. "Woo! That is a thousand times better than smelling salts." He took another bottle from the same pocket, this one cherry red, and tossed it to Eddie. "I'll tell you everything I remember, but you're gonna wanna do one of these first." Eddie frowned and pocketed the bottle.

"As much as I would love to do drugs in the middle of the park with you, Myra's got me on the little blue pill and inhaling amyl nitrate with it in my system would literally kill me."

"Myra's your wife?"

"Yeah."

"And she's making you take Viagra?"

"It's not like that." Eddie frowned. "I don't want to talk about Myra right now. Tell me what happened. Do you remember anything at all?" Eddie held Richie's hands. Beneath the scars, his palms were just as sweaty as they always had been. There was something sweetly innocent in that fact that made Eddie’s heart clench. 

_ Love Eddie. I don't know why, but the universe is giving you two a chance. I say you should take it. Now wake up and forget we talked. I love you Rich, but I pray I never have to see you again. Stay safe and love Eddie. Love him.  _ The words rattled in Richie’s brain. 

“No. But it brought the scars back. I’m sure of it. Big Bill did that with a sliver of coke bottle, do you remember that?”

Eddie rubbed his face “Yes. I remember. It was the day before Beverly left. The last day we were all together. You held my hand.”

“Eds–“

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie’s face tried a playful smile.

“My dear, darling, inimitable Edward Spaghedward–“

“Stop!” Eddie erupted into loose giggles.

“Okay, okay, okay! What I’m trying to say,  _ Eddie,  _ is that I saw things in the smoke-hole. I know I did. And I have these memories that are so close I could touch them – but I don’t think I’m supposed to. Whatever I saw, I wasn’t meant to see it.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and buried his face into his shoulder. He placed a chaste kiss on the smooth patch of skin behind Richie's ear. "It's ok."

“I didn't understand it. I  _ don't  _ understand it. When I was a kid, I really, truly believed in demons. It was the only interesting thing they ever talked about in church, so of course that's the part I bought into. What I'm trying to say is that I don't really have much of a grip on this whole 'cosmic powers that be' shit, I only know what I feel in my bones. We weren't supposed to meet up again. The seven of us, when we're together, we're powerful. Alone, we're just people. In two years… if It isn’t dead… that’s the only way we’ll ever get to reunite.”

“What about the two of us?” Eddie asked in a wet voice.

“I don’t know.” Richie wiped a stray tears from Eddie’s face and smiled. “But for now, I want to know your favorite place to go for lunch.”

 

2

 

The place they went was definitely not Eddie’s favorite place. In fact, it was one of Eddie’s  _ least  _ favorite places. It was the restaurant that was used for the exterior shots of Monk's Café in Seinfeld. Eddie'd wanted to go somewhere else (anywhere else, really it was a massive  overpriced tourist trap) but when they’d driven by the building, Eddie hadn’t been able to deny Richie’s adorable, gawking face. 

Despite it being two in the afternoon, Richie ordered a breakfast that could rival Myra's in volume.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have a stack of pancakes, a side of hash browns, scrambled eggs, four slices of toast, actually scratch that last bit. I want French toast instead."

The waitress’ voice dropped. "You mean you want the French toast instead of the pancakes, right?"

"No, ma'am. Scratch the regular toast, keep the cakes. Add some waffles and that's it for me."

"Nothing to drink?"

"Oh I forgot! I'll take a vodka neat," Richie folded the menu and smiled, "and a water," he added as an afterthought. 

"This is a family establishment, we don't serve vodka here. ”

Richie groaned. "Okay. I'll take a mimosa, but make it a good 80% champagne and I’ll pretend it’s a screwdriver.” 

The waitress frowned, but wrote it down before looking at Eddie with an exhausted expression. "And you sir?"

"Just a glass of water without ice and the garden salad."

"Ok. I'll be back with your food, but it'll probably take a while."

"No problem, we're just glad to be here." Richie gave the waitress a shiny smile and she went back to the kitchen clicking her tongue.

"Geez, Richie. I hope you don't plan on eating all that."

"I'm fucking famished," Richie hunched on his elbows and looked Eddie in the eyes as though he were sharing a conspiracy. "The smoke-hole really took it out of me. Besides, you're one to talk. Are you really just getting a salad?"

"Just because you've never touched a vegetable doesn't mean I'm the same."

"I'm wounded."

"Well if I'm not full, I'll just steal some of your food."

"You better."

The waitress returned to the table and dropped off their drinks.

Eddie frowned at his glass. 

"What's got you down, Eds, my dear?"

Eddie's heart clenched. "Please don't call me that.  _ Please. _ ” It wasn’t funny for Eddie anymore. 

Richie looked like he was going to go off on a playful little rant, but stopped himself at Eddie's expression. Eddie didn't take his eyes off his water. Ice cubes bounced around the top of the glass. 

"Didn't you order it without ice?" Richie asked. 

"Yeah."

"Want me to call the waitress over? You said you have soft teeth, right?"

"It doesn't matter." Eddie kept staring, tension pinching his eyebrows together. His frown deepened. 

"Drink it then."

"Huh?"

"If it doesn't matter, drink it. You were in the smoke-hole too, at least for a little bit. And since you refuse to carry little water bottles–"

"God, not this again." Eddie rolled his eyes. 

"I'm just saying," Richie held out his palms in surrender. "Take a sip."

Eddie thought for a second. His throat still burned. He really should take a drink, he  _ wanted  _ to take a drink, but the ice mocked him. He could just pull the cubes out as he'd done in the bar, but after so much remembering and his nightmare, Eddie wasn't sure he could manage it. 

"I'm fine." He pushed the glass away. 

"You're not fine."

"Yeah? Well neither are you."

"Fair point." Silence stretched long enough for the food to come. Richie's meal took up half the table. 

Although he was unable to finish his meal, Richie made a valiant effort to scarf it all down. Eddie didn’t touch his salad or take a drink from his water. Richie threw him a concerned look. 

“Eddie, you should eat something–”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Richie’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

“Remembering things. Not just what happened in ’89… all of it.”

“All of  _ us _ , you mean?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Well damn Eddie.” Richie pulled out his wallet and slapped a hundred dollar bill on the table. “Here I thought that you dragging me to the park to do some voodoo shit meant that you actually liked me. I get it though, I’m nothing–“

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well, Eddie, what is it? Can we please, for the love of God, stop beating around the bush? When you came out to me,  _ which you most definitely did,  _ you told me you liked me.”

Eddie’s jaw locked. “I was a kid. I didn’t know what being in love was.”

“Bullshit. You liked me in a full, romantic, sexual, gay kind of way–”

“Beep-beep–“

“– I liked you too. You had to know that, right? You liked me and I liked you back and neither of us had enough courage to say anything until I had to leave.  _ God,  _ all the time we’ve missed together… I still like you Eddie. I never stopped. Even when I couldn’t remember your face and forgot your name… I never stopped loving you. Tell me you don’t feel the same way. If you really became magically straight and fell in love with a woman who drugs you so you can have sex, look me in the eyes and say it. Tell me you don’t love me too.”

“I…” Eddie’s words crumbled at his lips. He banged the table with his fist. His glass of water spilled and ice tumbled across the table. He choked. The waitress rushed over and cleaned the mess up.

“It’s not so easy for me,” Eddie whispered when the table was cleared. “My mom… it’s hard for me… I don’t know what was Pennywise and what was her,” his voice faltered. “I know it’s not bad to be gay. I swear that I know that. I’ve hired plenty of gay people at the company, many of them are friends. Myra and I both always vote blue. I mean we’re not exactly advocating in the streets, but we’ve supported gay rights at the ballot every time. It’s just whatever happened to us, whatever happened to me afterwards… somehow it got all jumbled up in my mind. The fear, I don’t know where it belongs anymore.”

“I’m scared too–"

“It’s not the same, Richie. What happened when you came out?”

“Well, like I said, I was in my twenties. My mom cried when I told her, but she came around. I think my dad knew all along. He calls me a poofter sometimes, but that’s because he’s an idiot, not because he’s a homophobe. I know coming out to your mom was worse. I can see good ol’ Mrs. K in my head now, it’s like no time has passed at all. When you didn’t want to answer my question earlier, you know, about  _ therapy _ –"

“Can we not talk about this here?”

Richie and Eddie left the hundred on the table. 

 

3

 

Richie decided he ought to get into work for the last few hours. Eddie dropped him off with no grandeur. 

 

4

 

"So, uh, you said you have tomorrow off, right?" Eddie asked as Richie got back into his car. 

"No, I'm off Thursday. And after not showing up this morning, they'd have my head if I didn't come in tomorrow."

"Ok."

Richie fiddled with his thumbs in the backseat. He cleared his throat.

"Oh!" Eddie smiled at him through the mirror and pulled something out of the glove department. He tossed it to Richie.

"A little water bottle!" Richie fell into a bellowing laugh and drank the whole thing in one gulp. "You sure do know how to charm a man."

"Don't flatter yourself. This way you have no excuse not to give me five stars tonight." Eddie flashed a smirk Richie's way. 

"Alright, my dear, you win." Richie laughed again. Eddie frowned and turned away from the mirror. "Eds – shit I mean Eddie – what's wrong?"

"Don't call me dear, I know you're just joking, but please don't. I don't think I can take it if you do. I can't hear what should have been." Eddie pulled in front of the hotel.

"Eddie we can still–"

"No. We can't.  _ I  _ can't." Eddie grit his teeth. "I love my wife."

"You don't."

"I do."

"She's  _ drugging  _ you–"

"No she isn't! At least not the way you think, ok? I have trouble getting it up sometimes. Is that really the worst thing in the world? Millions of men have the same problem. It doesn't mean I'm not attracted to her and it sure as hell doesn't mean I'm attracted to men. And Myra isn't a monster. She's the sweetest woman I've ever met and if she had just one  _ inkling  _ that I didn't want to be having sex with her she would never make me. So, no. For the last time. She isn't drugging me so she can 'have her way with me' or whatever the fuck you think. Am I going to lie and say our sex life is perfect? No. But whose is? All that matters is that we are two consenting adults."

"I hate this."

Eddie glared at him. "What? What do you hate?"

"Us fighting! We've had so many little spats the past two days that I can't even keep track–"

"Well if you would just stop talking about my marriage or my sexuality or my ability to get an erection, we wouldn't have to argue.  _ None  _ of this is any of your business."

Richie sighed. His eyes had grown tired. "Fine. I'm sorry. I just don't understand. I thought today… I thought we were getting somewhere. I don't know what your mom did to you to make you hate yourself that much, but if being with Myra helps, then I'm happy for you. That's all I ever wanted, for you to be happy."

Eddie stared out the windshield to the city lights with bleary eyes. "I never knew you liked me," he said to the window pane, trying not to see Richie's reflection in it.

"What–"

"When we were kids. When I told you…" Eddie twisted his eyes shut and took a shallow, absent breath. "When I told you I was gay... when I told you I liked you, I never had any idea you liked me back."

"I wasn't strong enough to say it. Eddie, you were the brave one."

"Things sure are different now, aren't they?" Eddie let out a bitter laugh. 

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I still don't get it, but you're my best friend. Somehow I don't think that ever changed. I know I was never good at respecting your privacy, but I'll try now. From here on out, I won't talk about anything you don't want to talk about."

"Thank you."

Richie got out of the car and disappeared into the hotel. After a minute, Eddie's phone buzzed. 

_ Ride Receipt _

_ Ride cost: $50 _

_ Tip: $25  _

_ Rating: Five stars _

Eddie smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has turned into a super slow burn, but they will bone soon, I pinky swear.


	7. Love is Not a Victory March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Kaspbrak is a five star man, ok?

 

#  Chapter Seven: Love is Not a Victory March

1

 

Eddie awoke to Myra's large face staring at him. 

"Good morning?" he asked with a nervous laugh. 

Myra smiled. "Good morning, Eddie-bear!"

She wrapped him in a hug. Eddie had gotten in late enough the night before for her to be asleep when he got home. She wasn't upset though. She could be a very understanding person, and she would never, ever suspect he was doing anything other than what he told her. 

"How was Oprah?"

"Oprah? What– Oh! Oprah is good. Busy, but good."

"She hasn't yelled at you, has she?"

"No, dear. She's a very nice lady."

"Oh, I just knew she would be! Did you get me my autograph?"

_ Shit.  _

"Dang, Marty. I forgot again. I'm real sorry."

Myra looked dejected. "It's ok." She sighed. "You'll get it today though, right?"

"Of course." He gave her a tight smile. 

She smiled too and snuck a hand into Eddie's pajama pants. Eddie tensed. He thought about what he'd said to Richie they day before. He'd reassured Richie that Myra would stop if he said no. And he believed that, he really did, but now he wondered if he  _ could  _ say no. 

"No." He surprised himself. His voice came smooth, clear, and strong. "Take your hand out."

Myra blushed a deep red. She yanked her hand away. "What? What's wrong?" Thick tears rolled from her eyes and down her cheeks. 

"Marty…"

"Don't you love me, Eddie?"

"Yes! Of course!"

"Then why don't you touch me? Is it because of the weight? I can't believe I got this big. I'm just a whale. No wonder you can't stand me!" She was bawling now. 

"No, Marty don't say that. You're beautiful."

She looked at him with wet eyes. They were incredibly blue behind her red halos.

"Then why?" She hiccuped around her words. "I thought we were doing better. The past few nights… were you even enjoying yourself?"

"Yes," he lied. 

"Then why do you need the pills? Do we need to see the doctor again?"

_ Tell her. For God's sake, just  _ tell  _ her. You've strung her along for too long now.  _

Eddie couldn't. He let a few of his own tears fall. He sniffed. "I, uh… I should get going. Um, Oprah has an important breakfast meeting today. I'll get you her autograph today, I swear."

"I love you, Eddie-bear."

"I love you too, Marty." He clenched his teeth hard enough that he was scared they might crack. 

 

2

 

"Eddie, my main man, how is this fine Wednesday morning treating you?"

Despite his conversation with Myra just an hour earlier, Eddie couldn't help but smile when Richie got in the backseat of his car. 

"Good," he responded. 

"And how's the wife?" 

Eddie should've been thankful Richie had laid off on him. After all, Eddie'd been the one who insisted they stop talking about his marital problems… And yet, Eddie's heart ached when Richie asked how Myra was. Hearing Richie Tozier – the beautiful vestige of his childhood hopes and dreams – say that so casually made his marriage feel real in a way it never had before. 

"She's good."

"Good?"

"Yes, good."

"Good!"

Eddie couldn't help himself, a laugh ripped through his chest. Thankfully, Richie didn't look at him like he was nuts. Soon they were both laughing uncontrollably. 

"We're two grown men," Eddie giggled wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. 

"We sure are! Marriage, jobs, taxes, the whole shebang. I don't know how it happened, but we got old."

"Have you ever been married?" Eddie didn't know why he asked, he was trying to make himself  _ not  _ focus on Richie'd love life. 

"No. Not me. Bachelor life forever." Richie's smile seemed to sadden. "There was a girl after college. I sort of thought we'd tie the knot eventually. I even got a vasectomy for her. Neither of us wanted kids and it seemed like we'd be together forever. We said we didn't want marriage, we wanted to stick it to the man, you know? It was the nineties, can you blame us? But we really were together for a long time. Five years, I think. Longer than I've been with anyone else by far. I loved her, I guess. But she got sick of me. A year after we broke up, she married another guy and they have three kids now. Can you believe it?" Apparently that was a rhetorical question, because Richie continued. 

"After that, I only did casual flings for a few years. Then there was this one guy. We moved in together and everything. He really loved me and I liked him a lot too. I broke up with him after two years. He reminded me of someone I couldn't remember the name of. It hurt to look in his eyes." Richie stopped, all humor effectively drained from his face. "But enough about me!"

Eddie pulled the car away from the hotel. He coughed. "So, what are you gonna do on your day off tomorrow?" He asked. 

"Well, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to hang out with me. I mean if you want the day off too, that's fine. Your wife's probably been pissed I've been keeping you out so late."

"I told her you were Oprah." Eddie laughed again, but there was a bitter edge to it. Richie seemed amused though. 

"Well now I'm going to have to cultivate a new impression."

"God no!"

"Oh yes, my main man!"  _ Main man _ , he'd said that twice now. Eddie supposed he'd have to get used to it after negating all of Richie's old names for him the day before. No more Eds, no more Spaghetti. No more  _ dear _ , no more  _ darling.  _ Richie was right, they were adults now. As a kid, all he ever wanted were for those stupid nicknames to go away, but now that they were gone, Eddie felt almost empty. 

 

3

 

The rest of the day went smoother than Eddie could have imagined. He took Richie to pick up a little breakfast, dropped him off at work, took him to grab lunch, and dropped him back off.

There were no incidents. Richie was nice, Richie was  _ polite.  _ Their conversations were light and easy – and yet somehow strained. Acting like they were casual friends, acting like they were never  _ attracted _ to each other… it was hard work. Richie put the jokes and the proddings away, leaving a strange sort of emptiness. 

It had been easier to simply reject all the vulgar things Richie had said before, but this restrained politeness… Eddie found that it only made him think about Richie more. 

Eddie pulled in front of the studio to wait for Richie to leave for the night. The car felt strangely empty without him in it. Eddie realized that this was not a new feeling. The entirety of his adult life, Eddie had felt an absence he'd never noticed until Richie got in the back seat of his car. Eddie loved Richie. There was no denying it; no pretending it wasn't there. Eddie had hoped that getting Richie to lay off about his sexuality would quell his feelings, but they'd only grown. Eddie knew now that he didn't just love the innocent, childlike, brashness Richie represented, but he loved the man himself, truly and deeply. 

When Eddie looked at the backseat through the mirror, he no longer saw Richie's thirteen year old eyes peering back – no. He saw how the twenty-two years apart had changed Richie. He saw the faint laugh lines around his mouth and the soft crinkle around his eyes. Richie had spent a good deal of his life smiling, that much was evident. 

Eddie's own face was smoother. His face showed almost no promises of wrinkling and he could probably pass for five or so years younger than he actually was, had it not been for his tired eyes. The only other signs of wear were a few worry lines and the thinning hair around his crown. Richie thought he was cute, though. Even before he'd recognized Eddie, he'd called him good looking. And even if Eddie were truly straight, he'd still have to admit that grown-up Richie Tozier was an attractive man. His crystal blue eyes, his high and wide cheekbones, his spattering of loose chocolate curls–

A dangerously warm coil of arousal stirred in Eddie's stomach. He gripped the steering wheel nervously, hoping Richie would come out of the studio sooner.  But Eddie was early, and sometimes work dragged a little longer than Richie thought. So Eddie was alone in his big black car with his thoughts. The promise of warmth he felt from thinking of Richie was wrong. He couldn't exactly say why it was wrong, but he  _ knew _ it was wrong.  _ Arousal is bad. Being aroused by a man, now that is  _ very _ bad. _ Even as these thoughts came to Eddie, he knew they were untrue, but he found his conscious mind in a battle with his psyche. Richie had been right when he'd pointed out the way they had grown into adults like everyone else, but Eddie still felt like a child. He felt terrified. Something had happened to him to make him that way, and it had nothing to do with a primordial being of evil.

Eddie started to hyperventilate. He pressed the heel of his hand into his crotch, despite being as soft as he had been when Myra touched him. The spark of arousal was banished and he was compulsed to squash any embers. The street behind the town car's windows blurred. He couldn't feel himself anymore. 

 

4

 

_ "Hey, mom," Eddie sat in the small wooden chair in the living room next to his mom's recliner. His fingers tingled with nerves, but he did not falter. "I need to tell you something." _

_ "What is it, sweetie?" She asked, not looking away from the TV. She groomed her fingernails absently.  _

_ "It's kind of important." _

_ She looked at him, eyes lowering to slits. She turned the TV off.  _

_ "You can tell me anything, dear." She smiled, but there was no joy in her eyes. "I'm your mother. You should never hide things from me." _

_ Eddie tried to smile too, but couldn't quite pull it off. He took a sturdy breath and made eye contact. Her gaze picked at him. It was as though she were staring him down, daring him to say something.  _

_ Eddie swallowed.  _ Now or never.  _ He'd told Richie, and he hadn't been made fun of. And sure, they didn't get to talk much now that Richie was gone and every time they spoke, his voice seemed more distant – but Richie hadn't rejected him for being gay.  _

_ Eddie could be brave. He  _ was  _ brave. He didn't take his mother's pills anymore, he'd thrown away his inhaler, he wasn't under her grip. He was a fifteen year old kid and he would never let his mother control him the way she once had. He'd helped defeat an evil clown, for Christ's sake! He could come out to his mom. He was strong.  _

_ Eddie clenched his fists, the soft bite of his nails to his palms grounded him. He closed his eyes, and found his strength. There was a voice inside him telling him to go on.  _ Hold your hats folks! Eddie Spaghetti is coming out of the closet and he's never going back in! Assemble the rainbow brigade, your icon is here!  _ Eddie smiled to Richie's voice – a real smile now – and he opened his eyes.  _

_ "I'm gay." _

_ Sonia's face didn't move a muscle. At first, Eddie wasn't sure she heard him at all.  _

_ "No you aren't." _

_ "Yes, I am." _

_ Then came the tears.  _

_ "No you aren't. You wouldn't do that to me. Eddie, tell me you wouldn't do that to me." Her face crumpled. All Eddie could think about was how she looked so disappointed.  _

_ "Mom…" his breath caught in his chest. "I don't want to hurt you." _

_ "Then why are you doing this!?" _

_ "I'm not doing anything!" _

_ "You're tearing my heart out!" She was bawling now.  _

_ Eddie knew his mother well enough to know her tears were a trick. Yet she was still his mom. She had raised him. She'd fed him, clothed him, and loved him. Yes, Eddie was quite sure his mother loved him. Why else would she be the way she was? He knew she wasn't right in the head. He told himself that that was the reason for the placebos. His mother was mentally ill, but she loved him. He found he couldn't hate her. _

_ "I'm sorry mom. I'm gay and I can't help it. It's just who I am." _

_ "I can't believe your doing this." She shook her head, fat hands covering her ears, tears streaming down her pink face. "I just can't believe it." She took her hands away, looked him in the eyes and stopped crying. It was almost as if a switch had gone off. "I'm not mad at you." _

_ "You aren't?" He couldn't believe it. His mother was going to accept his sexuality. She was upset, yes, but she loved him even if she didn't know how to show it.  _

_ "I'm sorry for raising my voice, Eddie-bear. I was just scared." _

_ "It's okay! Mom, it's fine. I didn't want to upset you, I just needed to tell you." _

_ "I'm glad you did. Like I said, I'm your mother. You can't hide anything from me." _

_ Eddie felt an uncomfortable itch beneath his skin. "I, uh, I think I'm going to go back to my room now. I love you, mom." _

_ "Ok." _

_ Eddie skipped up the stairs twice as fast as he normally would. His heart beat an anxious tune. _

_ Fifteen minutes later, his mother opened the door to his bedroom.  _

_ "Eddie, go to the bathroom and sit on the edge of the tub. Take off your pants and wait for me." _

_ "Wuh-what? Why?" _

_ "What you told me earlier about being…  _ sick _ , I know how to make you better." _

_ "You… you said you weren't mad." _

_ "I'm not. You were right, you can't help it. I always knew you were delicate, Eddie darling. I should have never let you stop taking your pills." _

_ "Mom–" _

_ "It's okay, Eddie. You've been sick before, but I've always made you better. It's what mothers do." _

_ "I'm not sick." _

_ "Go wait in the bathroom." _

_ Eddie didn't know why, but he felt that everything brave and strong had been knocked out of him. He went to the bathroom dutifully and sat on tub to wait for her, but he kept his pants on.  _

_ His mother returned with a bundle of ice wrapped in cheesecloth.  _

_ "I told you to take your pants off." She glowered at him.  _

_ "Mom, I–" _

_ "Take them off. We have to make you better." Her stare struck indescribable pain in Eddie's chest. She was crying again and looked desperately upset, but her voice was an unwavering monotone. "Don't you love me?" _

_ Eddie squirmed.  _

_ "Don't you love me?" she repeated.  _

_ "Yes, mommy. Yes, I love you." _

_ She smiled. "You're a good boy. Now take off your pants and I'll fold them for you. Keep your underwear on." _

_ Eddie swallowed, but did as he was told. It felt like his body was being controlled by someone else. He no longer had the power to say no. Everything that had made him strong was gone. Bev, then Bill, then Ben, then Stan, then Richie.  _ Richie.  _ Gone. Eddie and Mike were the only ones left in Derry. Worse, they were the only ones left with the knowledge of what'd happened to them.  _

_ After Richie told Eddie about his girlfriend, Eddie knew Mike had been right that they were doomed to forget each other. Their friendship was too good for the world to allow. Eddie knew that his mother wanted to move them to Queens and he knew in the months after they did, his memories would disappear just as they had with his friends. It was worse for him though, because the others hadn't known they were forgetting, they just did. Eddie thought it was okay to forget if you didn't remember what you were missing. So maybe that was his fate. Just as all his friends had, he too would leave Derry and become a new person. And if he were to become a new person, wouldn't he rather be a straight one? He doubted whatever his mother had planned would fix him, but wasn't it worth a shot? _

_ "Ok, mom." Eddie took off his Levi's and handed them to her. She smiled and sat him down. She held out the bundle of ice. "What do you want me to do with it?" he asked, scared that he already knew the answer. _

_ "Mommy needs you to hold the ice against your lap." _

_ "Mom, I can't–" _

_ "It'll numb you. That way, whenever you have dirty thoughts, you can just think about the way the ice feels against you. It's the only way." _

_ Tears welled in Eddie's eyes, but he made no protest. He took the ice.  _

_ "Good. This will make you better, I swear it. I'm going to go downstairs and watch the second half of Jeopardy, ok? Once your numb, try to think about unclean things. If you feel anything,  _ anything at all,  _ take the ice out of the cloth and take off your underwear. Push the cubes into the skin of your privates." _

_ "How– how long?" _

_ "Until the ice is all melted. Don't come out of here until it's all gone." Sonia left the bathroom and closed the door.  _

_ Alone, Eddie held the bundle in his hands.  _ Just put it the sink and wait for it to melt there, Eds! I knew Mrs. K was crazy, but I didn't know she was  _ that _ crazy! Wowza! Just sit here and twiddle your thumbs while you let it thaw under the faucet. Easy-peasy. Then you can go back to thinking about me! Isn't that great? Oh, wait. I don't care about you anymore. I don't even  _ remember _ you.

_ Eddie pressed the ice to his lap. At first it was just a little annoyingly cold. Then, just like his mother had promised he felt a little twinge of numbness. He could do it, he just had to push through. He wasn't thinking about boys as his mother's advised him too, in fact he was actively avoiding about thinking about anything at all. He took off his underpants, unwrapped the cloth, and pressed the raw ice into his groin. To his horror, the cubes had hardly melted at all. He must've only been alone for a minute or so, and yet it'd felt like an eternity. He could hear Alex Trebek's voice from downstairs. He pressed harder on the ice.  _

_ His mother was wrong. He didn't feel numb. He felt pain. As the frozen, dry surface of the cubes pressed against his sensitive skin, needles of cold shot through his nerves. His body screamed at him to remove the ice, but he pushed through. A part of him wanted the pain, wanted to hurt. He rubbed the ice against into his skin.  _

_ Eddie never knew ice could burn your skin until the cubes finally melted. To his horror, skin was red and blistered to the point of bleeding.  _

 

5

 

Eddie's breath heaved from his chest in short, uncontrolled huffs. He'd forgotten what his mother had made him do; forgotten that she'd  _ continued _ to make him do it almost daily until he went to college. Somehow, the memories had furled into nothingness and he had supernatural cause to blame. 

He was filled with an unparalleled anger. His mother had hurt him, mentally ill or not, she had damaged the skin and nerve endings of his genitals and had reprogrammed his psyche to associate arousal with pain. He hated her. This time there was no childish love or sense of duty veiling his judgement. Eddie Kaspbrak  _ allowed _ himself to hate her. 

His entire adult life had been filled with confusion and guilt over his sexuality and he only knew why now. 

He was still outside of the NBC studios waiting for Richie, but he let himself feel the true emotional gravity of what had happened to him. He hadn't been able to take care of himself then; hadn't been able to deny his mother the pain she forced him to inflict upon himself. But now,  _ now _ , he was an adult. He was a man who despite everything, had made a life for himself. He was successful. He'd founded a company that Forbes had called 'high risk' and he'd  _ succeeded.  _ He could be strong again, not just for the man he'd become, but for the little boy still scared and confused within him. 

Richie knocked on the window. Eddie sniffed his nose and wiped the few tears that had escaped his eyes. He unlocked the car. Richie opened the door to the backseat, just as he has done so many times in the days previous. He was about to sit, but Eddie stopped him. 

"Sit in the front."

"Huh?" Beautiful Richie, as clumsy as ever, stumbled out of the back. 

"Rich, you're my best friend. I don't care if you're technically my employer, I'm not going to be your chauffeur anymore. I'm driving you because your my friend. Delete the app, stop paying me, stop rating my driving, and get your ass up here. You're in a city you don't know and your license is suspended because you're an idiot. I live here, I know the streets, and I have a car. I'm doing you a favor. You're not my client. Tell your agent she can eat shit if she has a problem with it."

"Wowza! My main man Eddie gets off a good one!" Richie was biting the edge of a helplessly dopey grin. It was a childish joy, unrestrained and brilliant. He climbed into the front seat with no grace, but enough fervency to make up for it. 

Eddie locked eyes with him. "You can call me Eds. I've always secretly loved it."

Richie's laugh was a holy thing. "We're back in business, Eddie Spaghetti!"

Richie's eyes were so blue and now only a few inches away from Eddie's brown ones. They were close enough to share the same breath. Richie's grin fell into a pleasant smile. There was warmth in his skin. Eddie knew he should look away; knew he should give Richie a friendly laugh, maybe a pat on the back. He should start driving. Maybe they could go to one of those arcade bars and have one hell of a time. They could buy some comics and grab some sodas; they could sneak into a movie premiere or go rollerblading in Central Park. Sure their bodies were old now, but somehow Eddie was certain that they could be kids again. 

But he didn't want that. He was the one thing his mother never wanted him to be – an adult. In that moment, Eddie felt a peace that he'd never experienced before. 

Eddie placed his hand on top of Richie's.  Richie's smile flattened. His eyes were tired and desperate.  _ Don't do this,  _ they told Eddie,  _ unless you really mean it. Don't make me think I can have something I can't. I've been too lonely for too long.  _ Eddie traced the soft skin of Richie's palm and smiled. 

Then he bridged the gap. 

The universe didn't collapse in on itself when Eddie Kaspbrak kissed Richie Tozier. The scars on their palms did not split open. Bill Denbrough, Stan Uris, Beverly Marsh, and Ben Hanscom did not suddenly remember each other. But somewhere, in a place that wasn't there, Mike Hanlon smiled. 

There was only one thought in Richie's head:  _ Love him. Love Eddie.  _ Richie deepened the kiss and Eddie melted into him. 

Richie was the one to pull away. 

"Does this mean…?" 

"I like you, Richie. I'm queer as a three dollar bill and I like you in the way boys and supposed to like girls. You taste like candy and cigarettes just as I always thought you would."

Richie leaned over the console, the stick shift digging into his ribs, and whispered into Eddie's ear. "I like you, too. I should've told you when we were kids."

Eddie knew there was so much they needed to talk about. He thought briefly of Myra who was so similar to his mother. She was probably watching Jeopardy and waiting for him to come home. The future didn't promise Richie and Eddie an easy path, but Eddie didn't want to think about it yet. For now, all he wanted to do was make out with Richie in the back of his Lincoln town car. And so he did. 


	8. Not All Things Serve the Beam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie spend the day together. Then, Richie and Eddie spend the night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that adult Eddie canonically owns and wears Gucci loafers, because honestly that is the most important detail of the book. 
> 
> Also, heads up, the fourth section of this chapter is really just one long sex scene, although there are important character-building conversations within it.

#  Chapter Eight: Not All Things Serve the Beam

 

1

 

Eddie left his house Thursday morning before the sun rose. He wrote Myra a little note explaining that he had to get Oprah to a photoshoot before nine. Under the note, he placed an autographed photo of Oprah's face – fresh off the FedEx printer and signed by one Richard Tozier.  _ It's a white lie,  _ Eddie told himself,  _ I'm doing so much wrong, but maybe if I give her this, she'll be ok.  _ It was a stupid justification, but Eddie wasn't ready to think of the implications of him making out with his childhood best friend when he was supposed to be carting around his wife's favorite celebrity. Had it just been out of lust, maybe it would've been easier to explain to himself, but Eddie knew full well that he was in love with Richie. He always had been and he always would be. 

The night before, he and Richie had both privately come to the conclusion that they were going to use Richie's last two days in the city to be with each other in every way that they could. Neither man was sure what would come next and the very thought of the future drummed anxiety into Eddie's heart. Two days. He would let himself have two days and then they'd go from there. 

As much as he ignored it, he knew deep down, that he would not go on with the rest of his life the way he'd feared he'd been doomed to. 

 

2

 

"Well good morning, good look–" 

Richie was barely in his seat when Eddie pulled him into a kiss. Richie cupped Eddie's face in his right hand and buried his other in his hair. He giggled into their embrace. Eddie tasted like toothpaste and medicine, somehow a perfect compliment to Richie's candy and cigarettes. Richie sucked on his lower lip and rolled his tongue.

Eddie pulled away with a panting breath. He adjusted his sport coat. It was a pleasant beige linen that brought out the tan undertones in his skin and matched perfectly with his trousers. The light blue of his shirt and the red paisley pattern of his tie made Richie's heart beat a little faster. 

"Out of the fatigues, are we? I was beginning to think black suits were the only thing you owned."

"Well, this is my day off too, and need I remind you, I am no longer your driver." Eddie placed another kiss on Richie's lips before continuing, "Mmm, even if I did only ever wear my uniform, it would still be better than your polyester windbreakers. You do know it's not the 90s anymore, right?"

"I protest! The 90s are back, my dear Spaghetti."

"Right. And where did you read that? TeenVogue? I've driven enough models to know that _ chokers are totally in again _ and  _ like OMG, slip dresses are swagtastic. _ "

"Dear god. Eddie Kaspbrak doing impressions? And I'm here to witness it? Heaven you can take me now, my life is complete!" Richie broke into howling laughter. "A few pointers, though if I may offer them–"

"You may not!"

"–first off, your pitch could use a little adjustment, but it was pretty good, if I say so myself. Now the only glaring problem is I don't think I have ever, in my life, heard anyone say the word  _ swagtastic. _ However, I think you will be pleased to know that I plan to add it to my personal dictionary and I  _ will  _ incorporate into our conversations at least five times today."

"If I admit I like your stupid Fresh Prince jacket, will you please not?"

"Deal. And to reciprocate, I think your summer linens are in equal parts adorable and swagtastic."

Eddie groaned, but couldn't hide the joy lingering in his eyes. He pulled out of the hotel and headed south on Park Avenue. 

"So where are we going, my dear? If I don't get to be Miss Daisy anymore, at least give me a clue."

"Well first things first, I'm dropping the car off at a lot. As much as I've enjoyed driving your ass around, I think it's time you rode the good old New York City subway."

"Nitty gritty? I like it."

"Nitty gritty, my ass. When's the last time you actually took public transportation?"

"I could ask you, Mr. Gucci Loafers, the same question. When I first came to L.A., I rode the bus everyday. The corvette's the first car I've owned. I bought her in '04. She's a real beauty."

"I'm sure you're very happy together."

"Har dee har har. It'll be awhile before I can drive her again."

"What exactly happened? I mean you were always an idiot, but a DUI is pretty down there. When you've been driving for a career as long as I have, you see some shit. I've seen drunk drivers wrap their cars around more street signs than I can count."

"I thought I pled the fifth."

"Yeah, well if we've gone through my shit, it's only fair we go through yours too."

"It's no big deal."

"Yeah? You've been drunk or high–"

"Poppers don't count."

"Poppers  _ totally _ count. Even if they don't, you've been wasted and hopped up on coke an egregious amount of alcohol–"

"Egregious? Ok, Webster's. You really want to know to know why my license was suspended?" Eddie nodded. "Fine." 

Richie took out his phone as Eddie pulled into the lot. Once they were parked, he thrusted it into Eddie's hands. 

"Look up 'Richie Tozier mugshot.' If you were so curious, you could've done this on your own you know."

Eddie did as Richie said and pulled up Richie's arrest report. 

"Driving under the influence, possession of cocaine, marijuana, MDMA… Jeez, Rich, the list fucking goes on. And that's just the shit they caught you with? I mean for fuck's sake, you could have fucking  _ killed  _ someone driving on all this shit."

"What the fuck did you expect? I'm not fucking proud of it."

"And yet you're still getting high every day."

"I'm not high now and I'm not an addict. Too much fun at a party, that was all."

"Right. You're not an addict and I'm straight."

Richie looked at him with sad eyes. "Neither of us are who we used to be or who we could have been. I've spent a lot of my life chasing a high or a laugh or whatever – anything to keep me going. Maybe this is who I was always meant to be. When we killed It, that should have changed things. We should've been stronger after that, we  _ were _ stronger. For fuck's sake, we  _ literally  _ faced our biggest fears and now," Richie's throat constricted, "now where back to point blank. Whatever sick fucking trick the universe pulled – making us fight that thing and then reaping the rewards for itself – I'm sick of it. Whoever we are now, whether It made us like this or whether we were always destined for this, it doesn't matter. Right now, right here, in the middle of a fucking car lot in Manhattan, we are  _ us.  _ Eddie and Richie."

Eddie made to kiss Richie again, but he was stopped. 

"Eddie, I don't know what comes next. I'm fucking terrified that after tomorrow I'm just gonna get on my plane back to L.A. and we'll both fall back into our shitty lives."

"We won't," Eddie said, pretending that, he too, wasn't terrified of the very real uncertainty. 

"I hope you're right. I really hope you are."

"I'm sorry for bringing your DUI up. When you said we're still us… you're right. We are. I don't know to explain it, I don't know how to explain  _ any _ of what I've been feeling these past few days, but somehow, through the man I've become, it's only when I'm around you that I remember who I am."

"Wanna cut a deal?"

"How do you mean?"

"For today, you get to be Eddie Kaspbrak, carefree, beautiful, amazing, flaming homosexual, and I get to be Richie Tozier, fun-loving, bit-too-chatty, only-occasionally-uses-drugs, lover of life. If our destinies were stolen from us, let's just take today to flip off the powers that be and pretend that we're who we should have been. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Swagtastic."

"Beep-beep, asshole." Eddie laughed.

 

3

 

Richie and Eddie spent the day together. They explored the city and Eddie pointed out all the hidden facts and stories throughout the avenues. They laughed and talked and walked with their hands linked. They let themselves live in a little trouble-free bubble. It was almost as though they were a couple. Almost. They passed the Apollo Theatre, where a billboard-sized poster of Richie was lit up, advertising the special to be recorded the next day. A few people on the street recognized Richie from the ad and he was kind enough to break off from Eddie for a couple of seconds to sign autographs for them and take selfies. When he finished, Eddie would pull him into an alley and kiss his brains out, if only to remind him that they belonged to each other and no one else. Occasionally a thought about Myra would pop up too, but whenever Richie noticed a nervous glint in Eddie's eyes, he would give his hand a little squeeze.

When the sun set, Eddie found himself in Richie's hotel room.

 

4

 

"Holy shit," Eddie breathed into Richie's mouth. He pulled out of their kiss. "If I knew your hotel room was this swanky I would've come up with you much sooner."

Richie laughed. "Is that so?"

The room was an opulent blue. There was a bit of mess in the corner, but the housekeeping service had done a damn good job of making it look like Hurricane Richie had never come through. The bed was tightly made with a blue and gold duvet tucked into the corners of the mattress. As Eddie took in its supreme neatness, he found that he could not wait to wreck it. 

Eddie pulled Richie back into an embrace. He balanced on his toes as he wrapped his fingers in Richie's already messy hair. 

"What do you want?" Richie whispered in a husky tone that sent a jolt of electricity through Eddie's body. 

"You. I want you," Eddie whispered, shrugging his jacket off. 

"God, you're so hot."

"Mmm, does that mean I graduated from cute?"

"No way. You, Eddie Spaghetti, are still amazing adorable."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"No time for jokes, Rich." Eddie frowned and rubbed his thinning hairline. "I'm thirty-eight. If I was ever adorable at all, I think those days are long passed."

"Am I really going to have to convince you?" Richie laid Eddie on the duvet and worked the buttons of his shirt. Eddie took it upon himself to rip his tie off. Richie started to suck a trail of kisses down Eddie's neck. "I want you to know just how pretty you are. If that means I'm gonna have to give you a million hickeys like a teenager, well damn, let's just call it making up for lost time." Richie latched onto the space where Eddie's ear met his neck, eliciting a deep moan. 

"No marks," Eddie whispered, a vision of Myra, wide-eyed and heartbroken flashed in his mind. "Not yet."

"Ok," Richie said. "No marks." Richie put his hand behind Eddie's back and helped him get rid of the shirt completely. 

Eddie found his mind catching up with his body. He reached down to find that he was hard – rock hard,  _ obscenely  _ hard. Richie took notice too, and cupped his hand around Eddie's erection through his pants. Eddie gasped and his hands curled tightly in the duvet. 

"What do you want?" Richie asked again. 

"I want you to fuck me," Eddie purred. This was the furthest he'd ever gotten with a man and he was still halfway clothed. An edge of anxiety bit at his mind. 

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific, Eds."

"You take guys home, right? You go to gay bars and have one night stands. I want you to do to me what you do to them." Eddie lowered his voice and repeated, "I want you to  _ fuck  _ me."

_ "Shit,"  _ Richie breathed into Eddie's ear. "You're so fucking hot."

Eddie pulled Richie's shirt off and ran his hands across his abdomen. 

"I've wanted you for so long. Even when I didn't know I wanted you, I still wanted you."

"I want you too, baby." Richie made his way to Eddie's belt. "Can I?" he asked. 

Eddie nodded, his voice caught in his throat. 

Richie made quick work of the buckle and helped Eddie shimmy out of his trousers, kicking off his own shoes and socks as he went. 

"You're beautiful," Richie said, taking Eddie's cock in his hand and running his thumb across its head. Eddie's voice hitched and he knit his fingers in Richie's hair. "So fucking beautiful," Richie repeated. "Everything about you drives me crazy. Even before I knew who you were, what did I call you?"

"Good looking. You called me good looking."

"Mm-hm. I was so right. You're gorgeous." Richie licked a stripe up Eddie's length. 

"Fuck!" Eddie cried. In the back of his mind, he could hear his mother's voice, screaming at him. She was yelling about how dirty he was, how wrong he was, how  _ sick  _ he was. Eddie ignored it. For the first time in his life, he felt arousal unaccompanied by phantom pain. 

"Love your voice," Richie smiled up at him. "You can be as loud as you want in here. It's just you and me. I want to hear you scream."

"Make me."

Richie took Eddie entirely in his mouth. 

Eddie screamed. He took a second to calm his breath before speaking. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Practice, darling."

Eddie felt a sudden rush of inadequacy. 

"I… I've never…"

"It's okay. Let me take care of you." Eddie nodded. He found that he trusted Richie implicity. In his sexual experience, as scant as it may be, Eddie could not recall one time that he had been put at ease. Richie lazily stroked Eddie. "Eds, we'll do whatever you want, you just gotta let me know what that is. I don't want to rush things. We have all the time in the world."

"We really don't."

"We do. You and I, in this bedroom, right now. All the time in the world." Richie took him in his mouth again and Eddie saw stars. "You like that?" Richie asked, pulling off Eddie with an obscene pop.

"Fuck, Richie. This is all new," Eddie breathed. 

"I know, baby. I know." Richie kissed the corner of Eddie's hipbone. "We can take it just as slow as you want. All night, we've got all night. No need to rush." Richie removed himself from Eddie and sat next to his lying figure. "Start by showing me what you would do to yourself. If I wasn't here, and you were thinking about me, how would you touch yourself?"

Eddie stiffened. "I wouldn't. Touch myself, I mean."

"You've never masturbated? Not even when you were a teenager?"

"No."

"No?"

"I mean yes, I've, you know…  _ touched  _ myself. I mean of course I have. Of course I  _ do.  _ What kind of guy would I be if I didn't?" Eddie sat up and ran his hand across Richie's shoulder. The arousal that had so consumed him just seconds earlier was gone. 

"Eddie, darling, it's okay if you aren't interested in sex–"

"I am! That's the thing. I really, really am. I want to have sex with men, I want to have sex with  _ you _ . I mean I wasn't as obsessed with 'tickling my pickle' as you were when we were kids, but none of the other guys were either. I knew I was gay pretty early on and my sex drive was perfectly normal for my age. I thought about other boys, I fantasized about them, and yes, I masturbated."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know. Like I said, I was perfectly normal. Just like Bill or Stan or Mike or Ben, the only difference was that I thought about boys instead of girls. Sure, I was terrified of coming out, but I still had a libido." Eddie sighed. 

"What happened?" 

"Can't you guess? Shit, Richie. I didn't want to ruin this."

"Eddie, you haven't ruined anything. I want to make you feel good. In order for that to happen, I need to know what's okay for you and what isn't."

Eddie looked away. "I think I'm broken," he said in a small voice. 

"Eds, that's absurd. There's nothing wrong with you. If someone," Richie paused, trying to find the right word, " _ hurt  _ you when you were younger, that doesn't mean you're broken."

"I wasn't molested if that's what you think."

"I don't think anything. Did your mom send you to conversion therapy?"

"No." Eddie found it within himself to laugh. "My mom had this complex that she was the only one who could fix me." He took a moment to breathe before continuing. "I came out to her a few months after you left. She didn't take it well, obviously. I should've waited until I was away from her, until it was safer, but some part of me really just wanted to let her know. So I told her. She– she– she made me numb myself. That's what she called it, anyway. She made me put ice on my lap until the nerve endings were too cold to feel anything. It didn't numb me though. It  _ hurt _ . She made me do it almost every day. I would push  the ice into my skin and just pray that I could be straight, because being gay hurt so much." Eddie's eyes lit in horrible remembrance. "She put salt on the ice. She did, I know she did. I never thought about it, but thinking back, there was always something weird about the ice, the way it burned my skin. Oh God, she  _ wanted  _ me to hurt. I guess, by doing that, she thought she could reprogram me. And then I went and married a woman, so maybe she succeeded after all." Eddie laughed again. "I'm not sure when it ended, probably when I left for college, but I forgot all about it. It's like what happened with It, only there's no primordial being of evil to blame, just my mom."

"Eddie…" Richie was at a loss for words. He looked at the man he loved with sad eyes and pulled him into a hug. "I'm so sorry that happened. What she did… that's fucking evil."

"I'm so angry," Eddie said. He buried his face in Richie's shoulder, but he did not cry. "I hate this world so much sometimes."

"Eddie," Richie let go of Eddie and looked him in the eyes, "it's okay to hate the world. The world sucks. But we aren't in the world right now. It's just the two of us tonight, remember?"

Eddie smiled. "I love you, Richie. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Eds."

Richie placed a soft kiss on Eddie's forehead. For a moment, they lay next to each other, side by side, unspeaking. Then, Richie reached across and put a hand on Eddie's chest. 

"When I was touching you earlier, you liked that, right?" he asked, a bit nervous.

"I did. I liked it a lot." Eddie smiled again. "It felt good. You make me feel good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty swagtastic."

Eddie hit Richie with a pillow. "You twat!" he yelled, laughing. "I hate you."

"No you don't. You love me. Remember?" Richie pushed the pillow off the bed and kissed Eddie. Eddie couldn't help but melt into him. He smiled when he pulled away for air.

"I do, I really do."

Richie hummed in agreeance. 

"Can we start over? Try touching again, I mean. I know I sort of froze up, but I'm okay now," Eddie said after a couple of seconds.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't be upset if you didn't want to. We can just lie in bed, I can rub your back, I'll order pay-per-view, and we can get room service."

"No. I want to have sex," Eddie said, blushing. "I'm just not sure where to start."

Richie went back to kissing Eddie. He reached his hand between them and started stroking Eddie until he was hard again. He smiled as Eddie started to pant under him. "We can start anywhere," he said. "I can use my mouth," he took Eddie all the way in his mouth again. "I can use my tongue," he licked across Eddie's perineum. "I can use my fingers," he circled Eddie's hole with a saliva-slick finger. Eddie mewled. "There are so many ways I want to be with you. How do you want me to touch you?"

Eddie stalled for a second. Richie was about to get off of him, but then Eddie spoke. "Could I… could I touch you?"

Richie smiled and repositioned them so Eddie was the one on top of him. "Baby, you don't even have to ask. You can do whatever you want to me."

Eddie kissed a line down Richie's happy trail as he work the button of Richie's jeans – the last garment among the two of them. Richie lifted his hips and helped Eddie take them off completely. 

"No underwear?" Eddie said with a bit of a laugh as he tentatively touched Richie.

"Guilty as charged," Richie said with a shallow breath. 

Eddie hummed as he wrapped his fingers around Richie's cock. Richie gasped and pushed his head back against the pillow. Eddie grinned up at him before running his tongue over a vein. He'd never done anything like it before, but watching Richie moan under him gave him a rush of excitement. If Richie could give himself over to love and pleasure, Eddie found that he was able to let himself to do the same. He fell back into the desires he'd repressed for so long. He tightened his hand around the base of Richie's cock and brought his mouth down to meet the top of fist. He pulled off after a second when his throat started to constrict. He was disappointed that he hadn't even been able to give Richie half of what he'd given him, but then he looked up to the the other man's face.

"Holy hell, Eds," Richie said gazing down at him. 

"Is this ok?"

"More than okay, you are fucking sublime."

Eddie took it as encouragement and tried again. He found a rhythm where he could move both his hand and his mouth in perfect harmony. He planted his other hand firmly on Richie's hip to keep him from bucking too hard. 

"Shit, Eds," Richie moaned, placing his hand in Eddie's hair and tugging lightly. "You've gotta slow down."

Eddie removed his hand and mouth at once. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, baby. God no." Richie smiled dopily. "If anything, you're  _ too  _ good. This is my official Dear God, I'm About To Come So if You Want to Do Anything Else You've Got To Stop Right Now Because I'm Old and My Refractory Period isn't What it Used To Be speech. Trademark pending."

Eddie laughed and pulled Richie up into a kiss.

"Do you have the things?" Eddie asked as he pulled away.

"The things?"

"You know… the gay sex things?" Eddie blushed. "God, let me try again. Condoms and lube. Do you have condoms and lube?"

Richie chuckled. "Check the bedside drawer."

Eddie got off the bed and opened the drawer. Five bottles of poppers rolled around next to a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. There was also a baggie of coke resting peacefully on the hotel's bible. 

"Toss me a popper," Richie said, smiling at Eddie's bare ass.

Eddie took two bottles and handed one to Richie.

"Thanks Spaghetti, I was scared you wouldn't let me." Richie said, taking a whiff from his bottle and shaking his head. "Wooh! That's good."

"Yeah, well don't count yourself too lucky. This is the one and only place where alkyl nitrates are appropriate." Eddie started to unscrew his own bottle.

"Wait, you don't have any viagra left in your system, right?" Richie asked.

"It's been over two days, I'll be fine," Eddie laughed and took an inhale before capping the bottle again. He scrunched his face. "Holy hell, I forgot how strong they are."

"Eddie Kaspbrak has done poppers before? Eddie Kaspbrak has done  _ any _ sort of drugs before? Stop the presses, folks!"

"Beep-beep. I did go to college, you know. And I'll have you know there were a few months where I, myself, frequented gay bars in this very city. Before I got married, I gave the gay lifestyle a shot."

"The gay lifestyle?"

"Well, I went to a few bars, did some shots, took a few poppers here and there."

"And no sex?"

"Never quite got there."

"Well, Eds, you are going to love living a  _ real  _ gay lifestyle, no partying required," Richie said, pulling Eddie back on the bed. He took a condom and the bottle of lube. "Okay, Eddie, how do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Top or bottom?"

Eddie looked confused. "Oh! You mean…"

Richie laughed. "Gay lifestyle, my ass. You see, when a man loves another man–"

"I know what you mean, asshole. It just took me a second."

"So what'll it be?"

Eddie thought for a second. Going into it, he'd just assumed that he'd bottom for Richie. It felt like the obvious choice and it was definitely the way he'd always thought about it. Hell, he'd even kept his diet light that day just in case. He felt a quick rush of anxiety at the societal implications of 'taking it up the ass,' but it was muted by the last of the popper high. He let the drug relax his muscles. Viagra had always made him feel like a prisoner to his bodily functions, but the amyl just gave him the ability to let loose so his mind could do the work. 

"Eddie? We don't have to do either, if that stresses you out. I'm always up for a good frotting session–"

"Bottom. I want to bottom." Eddie smiled at himself. He let the tension fall away from his body. 

Richie wrapped his hands around Eddie's chest and gently lowered him against the mattress. "Ok, I'm gonna prep you first. Is that okay?"

Eddie nodded.

Richie wrapped one hand around Eddie's cock. He took his other hand, lubed his fingers, and slowly moved to open Eddie up. When he put the first finger in, Eddie tensed.

"Relax, Eds. Just let your muscles loosen. Take another hit if you need to. Tell me when you're ready."

Eddie grabbed the bottle and took a deep inhale. He put the bottle away and breathed. He took a minute to ground himself. He felt the soft duvet beneath him, the cool air hitting his flesh, and Richie's strong touch against his thigh. 

"I'm ready," he said.

Richie got back to work and slowly worked Eddie up to three fingers. When he felt Eddie start to tense again, he curled them upwards.

"Fuck!" Eddie gasped, bucking against Richie's fingers. Richie grinned. 

"There we go, baby," Richie whispered in a husky tone. He withdrew his fingers and rolled his condom on. "I'm gonna go in now, ok?"

Eddie whispered an 'ok' back. 

Richie held Eddie as he took his time bottoming out, allowing his partner every moment he needed to adjust. Eddie hissed at the sensation and Richie paused.

"Are you okay? Do you need to stop?" Richie asked, pushing back a lock of hair from Eddie's sweaty brow.

"I'm good. Start moving," Eddie said. He took Richie's fingers from his forehead and kissed them gently. Richie started to move at a snail's pace. Eddie groaned. "I love you so much, Rich, but for the love of God, fuck me harder."

Richie smirked, a bit taken aback. "Your wish is my command." He pulled out almost completely, added more lube, and set a moderate pace. He breathed heavily as he watched Eddie come apart beneath him. "So beautiful," he whispered in Eddie's ear. "You're so, so, so, incredibly beautiful. This is how we were always meant to be, Eds. I love you so much and nothing will ever change that." He thrusted faster and aimed his hips a little higher. Eddie tightened around him and dug his fingernails in Richie's back.

"There!" Eddie yelled. "Fuck! Right there, Rich." He moved his own hips upwards to meet Richie's thrusts.

"Eddie," Richie moaned. It was his turn to be breathless. Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie's hips and pulled him as close as possible. "Fuck, Eddie. I love you, I love you, I love you," he babbled. Eddie shut him up by joining their lips. Richie reached the bottle of lube and slicked his hand. He snuck his hand between them and wrapped his fingers around Eddie's cock, not breaking their kiss. Eddie gasped into his mouth as Richie matched the rhythm of his hands to his hips. 

For a second, Eddie's mind was entirely clear. Richie'd been right: in this one crystalline eternity, the world was just the two of them. Eddie saw stars as he came and he gripped Richie's back hard enough to draw blood. His entire body tensed and the back of his brain fuzzed into beautiful silence, the only thing he could hear was his and Richie's breathing, perfectly matched together. His jolted caught back online just in time to feel Richie come a second later. 

Richie collapsed on him before rolling off breathless. Eddie put his hand on Richie's chest, feeling it heave up and down, grounding himself in the new reality they had found together. Eddie was still boneless when Richie got up and cleaned them both off.

Richie gave Eddie a chaste kiss as he turned out the light. Eddie nuzzled into his embrace and for the first time in many years, Eddie did not take any medication before bed. Eddie fell asleep next to Richie, not one thought of Myra on his mind.


	9. City in Dust

 

#  Chapter Nine: City in Dust

 

Eddie Kaspbrak woke up in a hospital room. He was alone. 

His whole life, Eddie had felt like he was walking towards the edge of a cliff. He was filled with terror that one day he would fall off. But now,  _ now, _ he was at the edge and the truth was revealed: there was no cliff. Beyond all the words and actions that had once seemed so pernicious, so irreversible, there was no drop. Life could continue from the would-be edge onto a never-ending plain of existence. Only this plain was not scary, the terrain was not rocky nor dangerous, but filled with green meadows and wildflowers. Richie was in the meadow, waiting. So why did Eddie feel like he was plummeting off the face of the Earth?

 

1

 

"You should stay," Richie said, kissing Eddie's bare shoulder. Eddie pulled on his slacks.

"I can't. I have to get home. Myra is probably worried sick."

Richie frowned. "You're going to stay with her, aren't you?"

"Rich…"

"It's fine. I get it. I get on a plane tomorrow and then we both go back to forgetting."

"That's not what I want."

"Come with me."

"What?"

"To L.A. Come with me. I'll help with the divorce. We can move in together."

Eddie didn't know how to respond. He wanted to say yes, he  _ needed  _ to say yes. He wished he could just let Richie whisk him off to California so they could start an new life together. He wanted that more than anything, but he also had his responsibilities to consider. His business was based in New York, but he'd been meaning to expand it. Would it really be all that much trouble to move to L.A. and start a new branch of Premier there? It was a brilliant career move, Eddie knew. If there was one place that had more demand for luxury drivers than New York, it was surely Hollywood. 

But then there was Myra. As much as Eddie hated to admit it, she was innocent in all of it. She had no idea that Eddie was gay, no way to support herself, and god help her, she was madly in love with him. Eddie spoke before he could talk himself out of it. 

"Yes. I'll come with you."

Richie's eyes lit up. He jumped out of bed, still naked, and lifted Eddie off the ground in an all-consuming hug.

"Really? You're being serious?"

"Yes!" Eddie laughed, running his fingers through Richie's hair. "Now put me down!"

"Aye aye, Spaghetti Man."

"Oh my God, you are too much. Now for the love of God, put on some clothes."

"Ugh. Fine." Richie pulled on a t-shirt and boxers. He started making coffee as Eddie brushed his hair. Richie had never been one for domesticity, but with Eddie, it felt natural. 

"So are you nervous for the special?" Eddie asked as Richie handed him a cup.

"Nope. I don't get nervous."

"Sure."

"Really! Besides, I was hoping you'd be my good luck charm."

"Is this an invitation to see the great Rich Tozier live? I don't think I can get a ticket, they're so exclusive."

"They are! But luckily I know a guy and I managed to get a ticket for you. Front seat and everything. Seriously, I'd love it if you were there."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Eddie said, kissing Richie sweetly on the lips.

"Mmmmm. We should just throw away the day and fuck each other until we have to get to the theatre."

"I would love that, but unfortunately, I think I need to have a conversation with Myra."

Richie groaned. "Fine."

"I don't want to do it either, but I'm not throwing away our chances. Not again."

"I love you, Eds."

"I love you, Richie."

 

2

 

Eddie got home at ten in the morning. As he drove back to Long Island, the guilt started to set in. He hadn't so much as sent Myra a text letting her know he was going be gone the previous night. Myra, his wife whom he had vowed to have and to hold, who was still sometimes too anxious to leave the house, was probably quivering with fear as Eddie cheated on her. He imagined her alone in their house, debating calling the police and reporting him as missing, just at the same time as Eddie wrapped his lips around Richie's–

Eddie turned on the radio in attempt to drown out his thoughts.

As he pulled into the driveway, he was not shocked to find Myra's car still there, yet seeing it made his heart beat a panicked pattern into his chest. It was suddenly real. There was no more safety net. Eddie knew the life he had built for himself was about to come crumbling apart. It was a good thing, and he knew it was a good thing, but it didn't make his upcoming task any less daunting. 

Eddie got outside of his car and walked inside.

_ "Now tell me more about the work you've been doing for the last few weeks."  _ Ellen DeGeneres' voice buzzed through the house. Ellen was Myra's favorite daytime talk show host, so it wasn't shocking that the show was playing when Eddie walked. 

"Myra, I'm home," he called, shrugging of his jacket and hanging it on the coat hook. There was no response. Myra wasn't the type to leave the T.V. on when she wasn't watching it. "Myra?" he repeated. No response. Eddie wanted to tell himself that Myra was in the bathroom, but there was something sinister in the way his voice rattled alone through the house. It almost felt empty. 

_ "Well, I've been working with a non-profit for bullied children here in L.A."  _ The T.V. continued to talk into the thick silence.  _ "It is so important that we make every child in America feel like they matter. The children in the neighborhood I grew up in were taught that they were nothing.  _ I _ was taught that I was nothing. Now, working with this charity and showing these children that they can be something, that their identity matters – that is something I am passionate about. Making sure every child knows that they will be loved no matter their race, religion, or sexuality is my primary goal." _

Eddie knew he recognized the interviewee's voice, but he couldn't put a name to it. He took a deep breath, flexed his hand, and walked down the hall.

_ "Wow,"  _ said Ellen.  _ "You know, when I was on your show back in '97, you were pivotal in making me feel comfortable as an open lesbian in the spotlight. Going back to what you said about children needing to know their identity matters, if there is one thing I could tell my younger self it would be this: you can either live a fake life where you lie to yourself and the people you love and feel safe, or you can bite the bullet and be true to yourself. It will be scary, but I promise, even if it seems like your life is falling apart, you will find happiness."  _ The audience applauded.

Eddie walked into the den. Myra was sitting in her La-Z-Boy, tears tracking down her cheeks as the blue glow from the television hit her face. 

Eddie faced the T.V. just in time to see Ellen to stand up and hug her guest. Oprah hugged back. Oprah was on Ellen. Oprah was in California. Oprah was on Ellen and in California and had been for the past few weeks working with charity. Oprah was not in New York. Oprah was not going to early morning breakfasts and important meetings and book signings and Eddie Kaspbrak was definitely not her driver. The penny dropped. 

"Marty…" Eddie walked towards her.

A sob ripped through Myra's body and she turned the T.V. off. In her hand, she clasped the picture of Oprah Eddie had had Richie sign for her.  _ Dear Myra,  _ it read,  _ your husband says you're my biggest fan! Lots of love xoxo, Oprah.  _

When Myra finally spoke, her voice was incredibly small and broken – it was the voice of a child. 

"Who wrote this?" she asked.

"Marty…"

Myra stood up and wrapped her bed jacket around herself like a protective sheath. Eddie had never seen her take up such little space before. 

"I should have seen it coming," she sobbed. "All the times you told me I was pretty, that I was enough, that you loved me… was it all just a lie?"

"Myra, I've never lied–"

"Yes you did!" she said with a wet sob. "Who is she? Is she famous? Is she one of the models you drive around? You've been acting funny all week, you stay out later than you ever do, you don't come home at all last night, and now,  _ now  _ I find out that you've been lying to me. Please stop. Eddie,  _ please. _ " Her naked eyes were terrified. Eddie had never noticed that they were just as blue as Richie's. 

Eddie reached out to hug her, but she backed away from him like a terrified animal.

"Tell me Eddie. Please. We can work through this, but please tell me why you would do this to me… I just can't… I can't understand… I never thought you were able to hurt me like this."

_ Time's up. You were too weak to play baseball as a kid. You remember that now, don't you? Your mother told you that you were too weak and so you believed you were. So every Saturday, you would go to the Tracker Bros. place and watch Stan play. Boy, could he hit. You loved the way he could crack the ball with his bat and make it soar through the air like a bird. And how he could run! He never liked getting dirty, but when he slid onto a base, he didn't care that his pants were covered in red clay. You were there. You were in the sidelines always watching, never playing. The only time you touched the ball was when Mr. Tracker made you retrieve it for the boys who were strong enough to play. But now there's no more being weak. You're at the home plate now. The ball is coming at you and she's flying fast. You've lied to your wife from the day you met her and now she thinks she's worthless. You have made her feel  _ worthless _. See that ball – it's almost here. Time to pick up your bat and swing.  _

"Myra there is no other woman."

"Stop lying! Please, if you ever loved me at all, don't lie to me. Who is she? Just tell me, please.  _ Please. _ "

"This week… you were right… I am seeing someone. Oh God, Myra, I'm so sorry. Before I tell you anything else, please just know that I'm so sorry."

Myra just continued to weep. 

"Myra, I cheated on you with a man. I'm gay and I'm in love with a man. I'm so sorry, Marty. I'm so sorry." He swung. He knew what was going to come next. She was going to want him to go to therapy. She was going to want to give him more pills. She was going to want to touch him until he felt something. She was going to make him sit on the toilet seat with salted ice in his lap.

"Why?" she asked.  _ This is how it starts,  _ Eddie thought. 

"I can't help it, Marty, I swear. I've tried to change, I let my mother try… it's just who I am. You've got to understand that. I was always this way." As the first tear dripped down off his chin, Eddie realized that he, too, was crying. 

"That's not what I meant. I've never hated gay people, Eddie. I've never hated  _ anyone _ ," she fell into another bout of tears in self-pity. "How could you think that of me? I know people are born gay. I know you can't change it. What I want to know is why."

"Why..?"

"Why, Eddie,  _ why. Why you could do this to me! _ " She shouted, truly shouted, from her the pit of her stomach, ripping through her lungs. For the first time in her life, she screamed out in anger instead of fear. "Why did you never tell me? Fifteen years. Fifteen years, Eddie, fifteen. I had barely graduated college when I met you. To think for that long… I never even knew. I see it now. How stupid could I be?" Her face, so pink and shiny, was the face of a woman who realized that she had wasted half of her life. "I could have found someone else. But you told me you loved me. You told me you were attracted to me. You told me you wanted children… I could have had that with someone else. Oh God, I love you so much. I always thought it was going to be the two of us. I know… I know I'm not beautiful. I know I'm not smart."

"Myra, you  _ are– _ "

"Please just let me talk.  _ Please.  _ Ever since I was a little girl, people told me I was pretty because they pitied me. Everyone at my high school told me I was lovely, but no one ever wanted to date me. It was worse than them telling me that I was fat, because they were  _ lying.  _ I thought it was different with you. I know who I am, but your love made me feel like I was better. And now I know it was all a lie. When we started dating… I wouldn't have been mad. I would've been your  _ friend.  _ And now, now we can't be anything. Why didn't you just tell me?"

There was a long, all consuming silence. The only sound was of birds singing their love songs in the yard of the house Myra and Eddie had built together. Eddie knew it was time for him to know what if felt like to fly.  _ Stan knew. He always liked birds. You can soar. Just like a baseball. He hit it so hard… it flew above Derry, it flew above us all. You can do it too.  _

Eddie found the strength to speak. "I wish… I wish it were different. I've hated myself for so long. My mom… she… she  _ hurt  _ me. I never told you. I couldn't even remember it, but when I told her I was gay, she hurt me until I said I was straight. I'm so sorry, Marty.  _ I'm so sorry." _ Eddie covered his face with his hands. He took his glasses off as they fogged with tears and disregarded them on the coffee table he and Myra had bought when they'd first moved in together. He couldn't see beyo nd the tears, he couldn't see beyond the fingers he shielded his eyes with. "I love him. I love him so much. I'm so sorry."

The veil fell. Myra was not his mother and she never had been. Sonia had used her tears as weapon. Every time she wept, it was to manipulate Eddie into staying with her. Myra wasn’t like that, she didn’t have it in her to be cruel. Her tears were not a weapon, they were a defense. Her anxieties, her self-hatred, and yes, the tears that dripped from her eyes – they were all parts of the suit of armor she’d built for herself. 

Myra held him. Although she was still filled with her own tears and anguish, she took him in her arms and let  his fears become hers. She pressed him against her warm chest for one last time and let him fall apart. And for the first time, Eddie let himself love Myra Kaspbrak. 

 

3

 

"....and that's how you end up with a wrecked bike, road burn, and a free pizza!" 

The crowd of the Apollo Theatre erupted into laughters and applause, but Richie could hardly hear it. His eyes were fixed on the empty spot in the front row. He put a smile back on his face. 

"Alright, good night New York! You've been a great crowd!" The whole theatre stood up clapping as Richie walked off stage. Richie didn't have a second to catch his breath before a phone was shoved into his hands. Eddie. It had to be him. Richie had almost panicked when he hadn't showed up, but he knew it would be okay. He knew that Eddie's conversation with his wife wouldn't be an easy one, so he tried not to take his absence too hard. 

Richie purred into the phone. "Eds, you have no idea how much I want to put my mouth on your–" 

"Christ, Rich! This is Angela, your agent. Remember me? What the hell have you been doing this week? Getting your dick wet? I've called you five times! Please tell me you managed to pull yourself together for the special."

"Just finished recording now. If the applause was any indication, it went fantastic."

"Oh, thank God. Now why the hell do you sound so glum? Offers are piling up over here. As soon as you get back to L.A. I can get you back on Conan, Colbert, Stewart, whoever you want. We've got to start promoting the special like crazy. Your career is about to take off. You hear me? Rich Tozier is going to be a star. I've already got an offer for you to be in a movie–"

"Angie, as always, you are great. But I'm gonna take a few weeks off when I get back. I know we need to do promotion, but something came up and I need some time off."

"Absolutely not. You've got to get your shit together, Rich. I love you, but sometimes you need a kick in the ass. After that crap you pulled with Premier– do you even know what a nightmare that was to deal with? You calling me up and telling me you got drunk and told your driver to fuck himself? I had to grovel to keep him from kicking you off their service!"

"Yeah, well this actually about that."

"Oh no. Oh God, no. You're fucking him, aren't you? God! I should've known. I send you up to New York by yourself and you start fucking a cab driver!"

"He's not a cab driver–"

"Oh you know what I mean. The point is, you need to avoid scandal. Got that? The whole DUI thing could have ruined you. The fact that it hasn't is a second chance. Don't fuck it up."

"Will you let me get a word in? The Premier driver and I are in love. His name is Eddie, he's adorable, and he's moving in with me."

"No! What the hell are you thinking? Are we going to have to sue Premier? If their drivers are acting so unprofessional the CEO needs to know."

Richie laughed. "Eddie is the CEO!"

"Whatever. Rich, I know you. I've represented you for five years now. We're friends. I'm trying to keep you on the right track, and not just for your career. You can't expect to keep having flings and doing drugs and falling in love with people you hardly know. It's not healthy."

"Well I've got to correct you there. This is the first time I've fallen in love and I've known him longer than you think. We grew up together."

"And now you're in love?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but I promise it's not. I love him and I think I always have."

"You've never mentioned him before."

"Well I'm mentioning him now. He's the love of my life, he's moving in with me, and I'm taking two weeks off to settle him in. That's final."

"Make it one week."

"Deal."

"Ok, Richie. Don't make me regret this."

"I won't. Talk later."

"Take care of yourself."

Richie hung up and called Eddie. There was no response. A small, nagging voice in Richie's head that sounded a lot like Henry Bowers, told him that Eddie had lied to him. It said that Eddie didn't  _ really _ love him; it told him he was unloveable. Richie shook the voice off and headed out the stagedoor to sign autographs. 

 

4

 

“Oh, Eddie. Don’t drink that. I poured it this morning, before… before all of this.” Eddie swallowed the tea and looked at her. After they'd both managed to stop crying, they sat down to start talking about a divorce. Eddie's heart hurt as he took a sip out of a glass of iced tea that Myra had obviously poured for him. It was too sweet, but the tea Myra bought was always too sweet. 

“Oh no," Myra said once she saw that Eddie took a large sip. 

“What do you mean 'oh no?'" Eddie asked. He felt a pressure in his chest. 

“I… I… before Oprah… when I didn’t know… you were just out so late… I was already scared for you… I wanted for us to be able to have relations…”

Eddie felt his heart stop.

“Myra, please tell me there isn’t viagra in this.”

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you before I let you drink it. God, this is the worst thing that could have happened right now, isn’t it?” she giggled nervously. “I’m sorry. I guess you’ll just have to wait  _ it _ out.”

“Myra, I need you to call 911.” Eddie felt his breath pick up. He felt a cold sweat accumulate at his brow.

Myra’s eyes bugged in fear. “Are you okay? It was just viagra, I swear. No more than usual. I mean you'll get a… you know… but it isn't the end of the world. Right?”

Eddie felt himself start to float. His arms felt suddenly numb.

"Marty…" he said, though his own voice sound tinny and far off. "I need you to call an ambulance,  _ now _ . Tell them that I mixed amyl nitrates with viagra." His vision started to blur at the edges.

"Amyl whats-its? Eddie, what do you mean? Is that a drug?" Eddie fell out of his chair and Myra screamed. "Oh my God!"

Eddie heard birds chirp. 

 

5

 

Alone in his hospital room, Eddie fell off the cliff. 


	10. Straight to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier goes on a rescue mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags, y'all.

 

#  Chapter Ten: Straight to Hell

Eddie Kaspbrak died at 12:01 a.m.

 

੧

 

It was 11:01 p.m. in Chicago, Illinois and  _ Beverly Rogan awoke with a shiver. Her pale skin erupted in goose flesh, but she was not cold. She braved a look to her husband on the bed beside her. Tom was still asleep. His breath came ragged and dog-like from his thick chest. After tearing his Achilles a year earlier, Tom had steadily grown fatter – more dormant too. Beverly herself had stayed in pretty much the same shape she'd been in since she'd hit puberty. She wasn't allowed to weigh over 120 lbs, and even then, that made her a pig in Tom's eyes, so she kept a steady 110. She jogged in the mornings; she did bicep curls with her little five pound weights; she went to a women's self defense class with Kay once – Tom had put a stop to that pretty quick though. Still, she was in good shape. For the first time in their relationship, Beverly looked at Tom and figured she might be able to take him. Maybe.  _

_ She got out of bed and walked to her vanity with an almost ethereal calmness. Her hand danced across the table before landing on a jar of powder. It was an antique. The body was heavy crystal and the lid was extensively decorated with wildlife engravings. She picked the lid up and examined it in the strained Chicago moonlight. She must've seen it a million times before – every morning she patted her shoulders with a thin layer of lavender talcum powder, it was Tom's favorite – but she supposed she'd never really  _ looked  _ at the design. On the center, among a bundle of raised calla lillies, a turtle swam freely.  _

_ A sudden rush of what she could only call  _ something  _ fell over Beverly. She could take Tom. Really, she could. He was asleep. He was fat. He was slow. She could take him. She held the jar in her hand and turned it over, letting the powder fall in a cloud that looked like an atom bomb. Her manicured fingers clasped the jar tight and her eye twitched. The powder settled and she saw it. In the corner of the room, staring at her, someone was there. A veil of powder clung to shadowy figure of empty air. It wasn't possible, but it was there: the lanky silhouette of a man who wouldn't be visible all if it weren't for the powder kissing his outline. The man flickered and the powder fell to the floor.  _

 

੨

 

It was 12:01 a.m. in Atlanta, Georgia and  _ Stanley Uris was having sex with his wife. She was beneath him, eyes closed and hair splayed on the pillow like a mermaid's. Stan thought that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in that moment – although he thought that every time they made love. Patty turned her chin up and let out a lovely moan when she came. Stan wasn't far behind. Patty whispered sweet nothings as she came down and her hips met Stan's thrusts. Stan squeezed his eyes shut and sped up. He felt a bead of sweat drip off his face. His eyes snapped open. The room was pitch black, but Stan thought he saw the sweat fall onto Patty's cheek. He stopped suddenly. Every muscle in his body tensed. _

_ "Stanny," Patty whispered, her eyes still closed. "Are you alright?"  _

_ He pulled off of her. _

_ "I'm fine. Don't worry, Babylove. I'm fine." He didn't move. He sounded fine – he was really very convincing. Patty believed him. She always did.  _

_ "Ok, Stanny. Do you want me to…?" She wasn't quite sure what she was going to offer. They'd never had bedroom troubles before. Nothing that affected their pleasure, at least. _

_ "No. It's ok. I have a headache, that's all. I think I'll take a bath." Stan rubbed his forehead, and his hand came back incredibly wet. "I'm going to take a bath," he repeated with a sense of urgency. _

_ "A bath? Stanny, it's late." _

_ "Darling," he said curtly, with an edge of what might be finality, "it's okay." _

_ Patty reached for the bedside lamp, but Stan caught her hand. Her hand slipped out of his grip. _

_ "Stan! What's wrong?" She flicked the light on and screamed.  _

_ A wreath of open wounds lined her husband's face. His eyes were wide and terrified. Her gaze fluttered to her cheek where she could make out a little speck of scarlett an inch or so below her eye.  _

_ Stan ran to the bathroom. He locked the door.  _

_ The bathtub filled with water. Blood poured from Stan's face. It dripped in tendrils down his neck looping in horrible lace-like ribbons down his naked body. Patty was banging on the door. Her fist met the solid wood with such force that the hinges shook. Stan did not hear her. He stood in the center of the tub, blood swirling in the water. He picked up the safety razor from its perch on the side of the bath – and then he saw it. _

_ The bath mat was shag carpet. Patty's favorite. It was a pleasant yellow. Sunny. In the center, there were two spaces where the shag was compressed – almost as though there were two glass paperweights on it – as if a ghost were standing on it. And then it was gone. The loops of yarn stood back up as if mimicking the hair on Stan's neck.  _

 

੩

 

It was 10:01 p.m. in Hemingford Home, Nebraska and  _ Ben Hanscom had always liked building things. That could have been the reason he was building a new shed in the middle of his backyard in the darkness of night. The quarter bottle of Maker's Mark he'd downed was a more likely reason. Whatever it was, Ben found himself drunk and shirtless with a couple of nails held between his teeth and a hammer in hand. The shed was a good project. Sure it wasn't the BBC Communications Center, but it would keep him occupied for the night, at least. He was alone, but that wasn't anything out of the normal. He'd had his regular Friday night two beers at Ricky Lee's, but when he'd come home, he'd decided he ought to have a bit more. There was something strange in the air that night. So he got drunk and went to work on the shed.  _

_ Next to him was his tool box and a bottle of rum. He was heading back to London on Sunday, and figured he ought to clean out the old liquor cabinet before he did. He stumbled a bit as he held a panel of sheet metal in place and gave it a good hammering. He squinted in the darkness, as though that was a logical way to assess his work. He smiled to himself and spit out the remaining nails. They didn't make a sound as they fell to the Earth. There was no soft thud, no clink as they hit the side of the shed – nothing. There was an almost void-like silence. Ben noticed that the insects around him had stopped buzzing.  _

_ Maybe it was because he was drunk, maybe it was because he was curious, or maybe it was because he was so alone that the company of any sort of noise at all would bring him some semblance of peace – Ben took ten paces backwards and threw the hammer against the sheet metal as hard and fast as he could. The crash that came was as satisfying as it was grating. Ben laughed.  _

_ He picked up the bottle of rum. It was a 19th century bottle of Jamaican booze that had cost $4000 at auction – not that it mattered. Ben figured he should pour a drink out in honor of the shed's dented wall. He pulled the cork off with his teeth and then thought better of it. He found that he had liked the sound of the hammer against the shed – that he had liked making a calculable impact on the immediate world – and he decided it would be a good idea to throw the rum too. He took a few more paces and hurled the bottle at the shed. The glass caught the starlight as it exploded. That beautiful, pure starlight that could only be experienced in Nebraska lit up and refracted across smithereens of antique glass. It was so breathtaking that Ben almost didn't see it. But he did. For a second, one tiny, fleeting second, under that holy twinkling light, Ben could swear he saw the erupting rum stop mid air and take the shape of hand, outstretched and reaching for him.  _

 

੪

 

It was 5:01 a.m. in Cannes, France and  _ Bill Denbrough hadn't gone to sleep yet. Audra had wanted to eat a bit of dinner, have sex, and go to bed early and Bill had wanted the same, but he was busy with what he called The Bug. The Bug was that wonderfully awful worm that crawled into his ear and whispered at him until he spent fifteen straight hours writing with only occasional bathroom breaks. This time, The Bug was making him write a novel when he should have been resting up. He had skipped dinner, sex, and bedtime and was 20,000 words deep when he abruptly stopped. The Bug vanished mid-sentence. Bill decided that that meant it was time for bed.  _

_ Bill powered off his laptop, stood up, and sighed. That evening, one of Audra's films was going to premiere and was sure to win the Camera d'Or. It was supposed to be a great film – not one of the shitty adaptations of Bill's books. Bill knew he should go to bed and try to get some shut eye. The cameras would be all on them that night and Bill knew how haggard he looked after pulling an all nighter. Still, the sun was due to rise soon, and the Denbroughs had rented a beautiful cottage on the shore for the duration of the festival. Bill went into the bedroom, placed a soft kiss on Audra's sleeping face, and grabbed a paperback from the bed stand. _

_ Bill liked to take late night walks with a book for company. It kept The Bug nice and fed. Tonight – or rather this morning – it was a collection of poems by William Hughes Mearns. Bill wasn't too into poetry, but Audra was, so he liked to keep up with her. Bill read from the book in the dim streetlight as his feet took him towards the beach. He found a selection he quite liked and read aloud to the empty morning air. _

_ "Last night I saw upon the stair, a little man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today, oh, how I wish he'd go away." _

_ Bill smiled at that and thought it sat well with The Bug. He'd have to write about something similar – a man who wasn't there. His agent would be happy to sell a ghost story.  _

_ Bill tucked the book into the pocket of his robe and approached the shore. The warm Mediterranean breeze kissed his skin as the rolling purple waves caught the first glimpse of dawn. Then, he saw it. A shadow. An impossible shadow. Next to his own, stretching long under the strange light across the sand dunes, there was another shadow in the shape of a man branching out. The man-shadow made a vulgar hand gesture before disappearing in the sand.  _

 

੫

 

It was 12:01 a.m. in Derry, Maine  _ and Mike Hanlon was not high. He was awake and had a glass in one hand and a carton of milk in the other – a midnight snack. Mike figured that he was turning into his grandfather. Then he remembered the brick of heroin taped to the inner edge of the chimney. He was doing well, though. He was a homeowner, he had a stable job, a growing 401k, a few CDs with respectable interest rates, and none were in any sort of jeopardy. He wasn't wealthy, sure, but no one who still worked in the library business in 2014 was. He was clean, respectable, an active member of the community. Mike Hanlon was definitely not the face of the opioid epidemic. And yet, he'd been discharged from the hospital after an overdose the night before. But things were okay. Sure, it wasn't his first overdose and it probably wouldn't be his last, but the good folk at Derry Home Hospital were good at keeping up with HIPAA these days, so the rest of the town was none the wiser.                 _

_ He didn't like heroin, not really. He was far more suited for the warm glass of milk at midnight, but that didn't matter terribly. He decided to stop visiting the macroverse for awhile. Last time… with Richie… things got a little too heavy. So he taped up the brick and put away the paraphernalia. Mike decided to take some time for himself. Human beings were only meant to experience so much, and for now, he would just be satisfied with his milk. He was about to put the carton away, when it was lifted from his hands. _

_ "Holy shit, that worked! Can I have some?"  _

_ Mike looked up, wide-eyed and shaking, and found himself face to face with Richie Tozier. Richie drank the milk straight from the carton. Mike decked him. Richie flickered from reality and the milk was sent flying. _

 

6

 

"Fuck!" Richie cried and started to choke. The smoke alarm was going off. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Richie smothered the fire in the hotel bathroom's sink and ran the taps in hopes of diminishing the smoke. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He pulled his shoe off and desperately started whacking at the alarm. To his shock and delight, it stopped. He took the opportunity to relight the fire. 

_ You've got this, Rich. You've got it, you've got it, you've got it. Smoke like wine. Smoke like hash. Smoke like Eddie's lips. Breathe it in. Sweet smoke. Hurry this shit up.  _

 

੭

 

It was 12:02 a.m. in Derry, Maine  _ and Mike Hanlon was very confused.  _

_ "Mikey!" Richie flickered back and pulled him into a hug.  _

_ "Beep-fucking-beep!" Mike dropped his glass and hugged back. He held Richie as close as he could manage, revelling in his actuality.  _

_ "Wowza! Can't you buy a guy a drink first?" _

_ "What's going on? Why are you here?  _ How  _ are you here? Oh God, I'm tripping. I'm tripping and I don't even know it anymore. I've fallen off the edge. Or maybe I'm just dreaming. God almighty." _

_ "Don't be ridiculous! Or maybe you aren't being ridiculous and you really are tripping or dreaming or whatever. I'm not sure how this works. We've got to hurry though." _

_ "Hurry?" _

_ "Yes, hurry!" _

_ "What do you mean? What's happening?" _

_ "I don't know!" _

_ Richie flickered away again. _

 

8

 

"So, uh, let's stop compressions for a second and we'll see what kind of rhythm we have."

"Looks like we should defib."

"Alrighty, defib at 150 joules and go from there."

"Clear?"

"Clear."

The defibrillator filled Eddie Kaspbrak with all kinds of great electricity. 

"Ok, resume compressions. Someone administer epinephrine. I say we do a 1mg IV push. Let me know when two minutes have passed, please."

 

੯

 

Smoke filled the bathroom. Sweet smoke. Smoke so sweet you could breathe it like oxygen. Smoke that filled silhouettes. Five silhouettes. Swirling with powder and carpet fibers and rum and sand and milk. Richie's heart hammered as he watched the silhouettes take shape. 

_ And then nothing. _

_ Nothing was starting to get boring.  _

_ "Hello?" a voice – clear and feminine – came through the nothing. Richie whipped his head around in search of its owner. _

_ "Bevvy?" he called back. _

_ "If it isn't Trashmouth Tozier!" another voice echoed in the absence. _

_ Then a flash of brilliant purple light – it was a sight that could only be described as resembling the sort of electric light that was set off by one of those cheap plasma globes Richie had in his room as a kid. The light pulsed low and shallow as it started to disseminate into the night sky. _

_ "What the hell have you done?" A third voice asked.  _

_ "Mike!" Richie could have cried in relief. Mike walked into the purple night. _

_ "Richie –" Mike looked like he might keel over. "What is happening?" _

_ "Oh, Mikey, can't you tell? I'm getting the gang back together!" _

_ The purple light cracked. _

_ "Jesus fuck," Ben Hanscom wandered into the strange gathering, eyes like dinner plates as they took in the sky. _

_ "Haystack! I can't even call you that anymore!" Richie slapped him on the back and hugged him. _

_ "Trashmouth Tozier, in the flesh!" Ben said with a hearty chuckle. "What the fuck is this?" _

_ "It's a reunion!"  _

_ "A reunion? Could you've at least sent a letter ahead of time? Some of us have busy schedules." There was Bill Denbrough, stutterless and charming. Richie tore himself away from Ben and buried himself in Bill's shoulder. Bill's robe was plaid, because of course it would be. It felt like home against Richie's cheek.  _

_ "And Stuttering Bill! If I didn't know any better, the two of you made my nicknames obsolete on purpose." _

_ "I'll say! If you call me Molly Ringwald, I'll ring your neck." Bev was grinning wide and proud. There wasn't a lick of fear in her eyes. She was embracing Richie before he could make the first move.  _

_ "Oh, my dear Miss Marsh–" _

_ "Missus Rogan." _

_ "Right." _

_ "You married?" Ben and Bill asked at the same time.  _

_ The sky struck blue.  _

_ "Jesus Christ, Richie, I told you not to do this," Mike said, fear growing in his voice. "I told you. The universe is cracked." _

_ "Well you know what, Mikey? Fuck the universe!" Richie raised both middle fingers in the air. _

_ The sky turned off. Nothing returned, but Richie was no longer alone in the void. _

_ "What the hell is this?" Ben asked, placing a protective arm over Beverly. She curled into his embrace. _

_ "The macroverse," Mike explained. "A place we should not be. A place we aren't." _

_ "Ok, kid, you're making no sense," Richie said. _

_ "Well you're the one who brought us here! I told you not to fuck with this shit!"  _

_ "So we can go back to forgetting? Excuse me, Mike, but do you see this?" He gestured to Bill, Ben, and Bev. "I've made a fucking miracle occur! The lucky seven batting a thousand! We just need to get Stan and we'll be good to go." Richie grinned.  _

_ "What about Eddie?" Bev asked. _

_ "That's the question of the hour, my good fellows!" Richie said. "The reason I have bent the laws of time and space are because our dear little Eddie needs help." _

_ The blue light flashed black. It was impossible – a black light. It was not darkness, it was somehow the totality of light conveyed through absence of color all together. Impossible.  _

_ They were back under the night's sky. To be specific, they appeared to be in some sort of cornfield. A dented metal shed glimmered in the cosmic rays.  _

_ "This my yard," Ben said in an almost absent sort of way. _

_ "It's beautiful," Beverly smiled. "The stars never look like this in Chicago." _

_ "Why are we here?" _

_ "Why shouldn't we be?" Beverly asked. She looked at Richie. "Why, Rich?" _

_ The ground hummed and the grass quivered in the windless air.  _

_ Then, Stan appeared. Out of the blue and into the black – Stanley Uris was naked and bleeding. There was no adult embarrassment surrounding this fact, only shock and fear. _

_ "Stanny!" Beverly was the first to his side. In that moment, next to Beverly Rogan, Stan looked incredibly small as he crumpled to the ground in that low, Nebraskan cornfield. It seemed as though the electric sky might just steal him away. Beverly caught him before he fell, but it was Mike who took him in his arms. _

_ "It's ok, Stan. It's ok." _

_ "It's not okay!" Stan shrieked. "No! No! No!" He scrambled away from Mike like a spooked animal. He ran his hands around his face and his fingers dipped into tooth marks with frantic veracity. The light fell a sickish pink and Stan sobbed. "It's not okay and it's not possible!" _

_ "Stanley!" They all rushed to his aid, but he flinched in a terrified reflex.  _

_ "I didn't want this! I didn't want any of this!" he screamed. The blood floated upwards and Nebraska was gone.  _

_ They were at the quarry. Only they weren't, but it felt like they might be. The water kissed their heels.  _

_ "Stanley," Bill knelt to him. "Stan, you're okay." Stan looked at Bill and an expression pooled in his eyes – an expression that almost said  _ I believe you Bill, I'd believe anything you told me.  _ "You aren't bleeding. You're okay." _

_ Bill took off his robe and draped it across Stan's back. "You're okay, Stan. I promise. It's just an illusion."  _

_ Bill helped Stan to his feet. "You're not bleeding," he repeated in a whisper. A robin whistled above them. Bill tied the robe for Stan. Beverly approached them and put her hand on Stan's back. _

_ "He's right, Stanny. You're not bleeding. I promise." She kissed his bloody cheek. _

_ Ben, too, rested a hand on Stan's back. Mike followed with tears in his eyes.  _

_ "You're okay," Bev cooed. "You're not bleeding." _

_ And then, all of the sudden, they weren't lying. The blood disappeared from Stan's face and the wounds closed in a manner that almost made Richie question if it hadn't been there all along.  _

_ "Chüd," Mike whispered. Or maybe it wasn't Mike, maybe it was the universe who spoke into all their ears in a hushed tone. "To wander into fearful places. To offer one's own body as food to the demons. To realize the true nature of reality." _

_ The quarry faded into dust. They were brought back to the cornfield. It was daylight now, or something close to it anyway. The sun hung in the middle of the sky, low and fat.  _

 

10

 

"Ok, will someone tell me what happened?"

"Edward Kaspbrak, male patient, thirty eight years old, no known medical conditions, although the wife insists he's asthmatic. There was an inhaler in his pocket, I put it on the counter, just in case. The patient arrived at the hospital an hour ago after a collapse in blood pressure and a resulting myocardial infarction."

"Do we know the cause?"

"Uh, yes sir. His blood pressure collapsed. His wife said he took 50mg of sildenafil and passed out. She said that she believes he was on drugs at the time."

"Nitrates?"

"Yes. We were able to get some urine and he had some trace levels of amyl nitrate."

"Poppers and viagra," the doctor clucked his tongue. "That'll do it. You know I really hate telling the spouses shit like this. It's kind of like the autoerotic asphyxiation kids. You just gotta tell the family the truth. You said his wife is the one who brought him?"

"No sir. He came in an ambulance."

"So the wife rode with him?"

"Uh, no sir. She, er, she couldn't fit."

The doctor laughed loudly. "No wonder the poor fellow was popping and huffing! Too big to fit in the ambulance. That's what'll really do a man in! We're just lucky the poor guy didn't have a cock ring wrapped around his knob when they brought him in! Have you ever done chest compressions on a cadaver with a hard on? Talk about embarrassing. A stiff one with a stiff one!" 

The nurse frowned and looked beneath her clipboard to Eddie's slack face. The code team was still at work. 

"I don't know if this is the best place to joke about such things," she said.

"That's fair. I'll give the code team a little longer to amuse themselves, then you can call the morgue. I'm assuming the wife's in the waiting room?"

"Yes sir."

"Two minutes are up sir. His body is not responding."

"Call it."

"Sir, I don't think–"

 

11

 

"I didn't know who else to call!" Myra wailed into the phone.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Myra, Myra Kaspbrak."

"Oh… oh…. I'm assuming Eddie told you?"

"Mr. Tozier, Eddie's dead!"

 

੧੨

 

_ "What do you mean, dead?"  _

_ "Eddie's dead, Mike. Eddie fucking died." _

_ "Wuh-wuh-wuh–" _

_ "He's dead, Bill." _

_ "Richie…" _

_ "Bev." _

_ "What do you mean, Richie? You owe us a lot. Now listen when I say this, because I will never say it again: start talking." _

_ "Okay, Stan. I'll talk." _

 

꤁꤃

 

_ Eddie Kaspbrak was not dead. At least, he didn't feel like he was. Honestly, the thought had not occured to him. He felt cold. Bone cold. Ice cold.  _

_ He was in his kitchen. Or not his kitchen. His mother's kitchen. Yellow tiles – they smelled yellow too. _

 

੧੪

 

_ "Talk, Richie." _

_ "Eddie's dead and we have to bring him back." Richie looked at Mike. Mike frowned. "Mike, we can bring him back. We can bring him back! Look, I've brought us all together! We're powerful when we're together. We can bring him back. I know we can." _

_ "Richie, this was so dumb of you. So, so dumb." _

 

15

 

"What do you mean he's dead?"

"My husband's dead! We killed him!"

 

੧੬

 

_ "When I cut our hands with the coke bottle shard?" _

_ "Yes. Bill, you made a link. It was already there, in our minds. The seven of us… we're linked and we always have been… but when you made us swear and you cut our hands, you made a physical manifestation of that link." _

 

꤁꤇

 

_ It smelled very yellow.  _

_ "–And little fags get it all the easier! AIDS FROM GOD YOU HELLBOUND HOMO! Everyone knows it!" _

_ Eddie could never forget just how yellow his childhood kitchen smelled. _

 

18

 

"Myra, where are you?"

"At the hospital! I don't want to be alone! Oh God, please don't let me be alone!"

"Myra I need you to listen. Tell me where you are. I need the hospital's name. I'll come. You won't be alone."

"I- I don't know! St. Thomas. We're – I'm at St. Thomas Hospital. Eddie and I – we live in Great Neck. It's about forty five minutes from the city. Oh God! Oh God! He's dead, I just know it! And now I'm calling you because your number was in Eddie's phone and I knew you'd be the only one to come!"

"Myra, dear, calm down. What did the doctors say? I need to know exactly."

"He had a heart attack. The doctor just came in and told me that his heart stopped. He's dead!" 

Richie swallowed. He kicked a hole in the wall of the hotel's blue bedroom. 

"How, Myra? How did he have a heart attack? How?"

Myra sobbed on the other line. 

 

19

 

"Jesus fuck, I said call it! You're pounding on a dead man's chest! Give the poor fucker a shred of dignity."

"Sir, we could give it a bit longer. Please, just let them try."

 

20

 

"How? Myra, please answer me. I'm on my way. You won't be alone."

"He said he did amyl somethings–"

"Amyl nitrates."

"Yes. He, he, he – he took some viagra when he got home. It was an accident. He thought it was a vitamin. I didn't know, Mr. Tozier."

Richie hung up the phone and threw it across the room at the very same time Ben Hanscom picked up a very expensive bottle of rum. He fell to his knees on the same blue duvet that he had laid Eddie on twenty four hours earlier. 

"Smoke-hole," something whispered in his ear.

 

꤂꤁

 

_ "Sir, this isn't an Uber," Eddie said, keeping his eyes on the stage door and hoping the man would leave before his client came out. It was rare, but occasionally a random off the street would approach his car, confusing it for their own ride. _

_ The man's ears perked up, he abandoned the car's handle, not looking the least bit embarrassed. Then, he looked at the car, smiled, and stuck his face through the open window. And oh, oh, that face. Eddie paled. He knew that face and he knew that he knew it… and yet he couldn't place it.  _

_ (Blue eyes. Cocky grin.)  _

 

੨੨

 

_ "A physical manifestation?" _

_ "Yes. I've stayed in Derry all this time. Just in case It ever comes back. I'm here to bring you all to fulfil the promise." _

_ "The promise," Stan muttered into the void. _

_ "To come back and kill It," Mike answered, although it hadn't been a question. "I've been doing research." _

_ "Research? Old Mikey here has been keeping tabs on us. He likes to get fucked up on smack and visit us." _

_ "What are you talking about?" Beverly asked, a little bit scared now. "Mike… do you see us? Like living our lives… do you see our lives?" _

_ "He saw me and my wife being intimate." _

_ "Is that why you were… you know… naked?" Ben asked, the adult embarrassment suddenly present.  _

_ "That wasn't me. I'd never invade your privacy like that. Richie's the one who brought us here." _

_ Stan's gaze locked onto Richie.  _

_ "Trashmouth, I swear to God–" _

_ "Oh don't make me look like a perv! How was I supposed to know what you were up to? I just needed to get you all here." _

_ Stan glared. _

_ "And hey, for what it's worth, you were doing an A+ job." _

_ "Beep-beep," they all said at once. The sky cracked.  _

_ "How's the smoke feeling, Rich?" something asked.  _

Richie's body collapsed in the hotel bathroom. 

_ "We have to hurry," Richie said.  _

_ "What do you mean?" Bill pressed. _

_ "I don't know! I just know we have to hurry! Eddie had a heart attack and it's my fucking fault! I love him and I fucking killed him. Last night, we were together–" _

_ "Wait! You're gay?" Bill asked. _

_ "No, Richie's bisexual. Eddie's gay." _

_ "Gee, thanks Mike. You're really proving how much you value our privacy." _

_ "We're getting off track!" _

 

23

 

Eddie's heart stopped beating and despite what were probably the attending doctor's greatest efforts, it did not restart even as the nurse convinced him to up the defibrillator and try again.

 

꤂꤄

 

_ The yellow tiles glowed like eyes in the dark – It's eyes. So bright and gleaming, they were almost inviting. Beckoning Eddie forward.  _

_ "Eddie-bear, sit down, sweetie." _

_ Eddie took the seat at the kitchen table. _

_ "What are these? Birth control pills?" _

_ "Yeah and I'm saving them for your mom." _

_ "Eddie-bear." _

_ "I like you Richie." _

_ "I like you too." _

_ "No, I like you in the way boys are supposed to like girls." _

_ "Eds…" _

_ Eddie felt his his heavy eyelids fall. He pulled them back open. His eyelashes were sticky and clung to his cheek, but he forced his eyes wide.  _

_ The kitchen had faded into blackness, but the yellow smell remained. Yellow like thick gas – warm and humid. Eddie felt water kiss his heels. Water. The quarry. The sewer. _

_ The clown's face rose from the water as a beam of pure light. It's eyes sat small and far apart on its round head. Streams of red grease paint poured from its sockets and its spiderweb hair sat wet around its peeling forehead.  _

_ "No one is coming for you," It spoke from tendrils erupting from its mouth. Across each tendril, rows of teeth furled forwards. It's voice was like oil. "I told you. No one is coming. Have you ever seen a drowned body, Eddie? They float. And their faces…  so bloated and  _ sick."  _ Its ugly ruff reared like a mane. The tendrils swung behind Its body and wrapped around the rocks beneath the water. Eddie watch in horror as the tendril pulled its muzzle open like a can of tuna. It occured to Eddie, perhaps for the first time, that It was a being that did not conform to the physical rules of anatomy – It was almost as if it were trying to  _ learn _ – to absorb the earthly world in order to create a horrible perversion of it. The folds in its harlequin suit now appeared to be scales – large and thick like an armadillo. It bent backwards, grounded by its tendrils, and its ribcage became its back. The lights erupted from the spines of its vertebrae and It collapsed into a pile of wet bones.  _

_ Eddie stumbled in the dark water. It was up to his knees now. That horrible smell of oppressive yellowness pulsed around him. The bones started to float and reassemble themselves, as if brought together by strange magnets. They formed a body, but it was all wrong. Arms sprung forward from its ribs and its legs were attached backwards. A layer of fat oozed from the bones and grew a layer of pink skin. The skin loosened and turned a greyish white as it pooled like cloth and red pom poms sprung forth. Those terrible, misplaced arms cracked as It swung them into sockets and its leg twisted forwards like a broken marionette. The It stopped. The water beneath them both froze.  _

_ Eddie could hear a clicking noise on the ice behind him, but his legs could not move. His gaze was forcibly fixed on Its half-formed body suspended in frost. The clicking behind him grew louder, it sounded almost like fingernails rapping on wood – it sounded like spider's legs on metal. It clicked a calliope tune that erupted into sharp tones. Eddie thought it sounded like the theme from  _ Psycho  _ right as Norman Bates dressed in his mother's clothes stabbed poor Janet Leigh.  _

_ "Eddie-bear," came a voice like raw violin strings. "You need to numb yourself." _

 

੨੫

 

_ "What do we do?" Ben asked. "How do we save him?" _

_ "In the Neibolt house," Mike said, "it was Richie, Bill, and Eddie. The rest of us saved you guys, but you were in there awhile before that. Richie, Bill, what was it like in Neibolt when it was just the three of you?" _

_ "Wuh-wuh-what does that have to do with anything?" Bill said, seemingly unaware that his stutter had returned.  _

_ The sky let out another crack.  _

_ "Chüd." Mike whispered. It was definitely him this time. "It's a battle of wits." _

_ "Against It?" asked Ben. Mike was silent. _

_ "In Neibolt," Richie supplied to Bill, "you said it wasn't real." _

_ "It wasn't." Stan muttered. "It wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't." _

_ "When we saw Betty…. Behind the door…. You grabbed my shoulders and you told me it wasn't real. You convinced me. And we found Eddie. We rescued him. All of us. It could have gotten him before we reached It, but it didn't. It stopped in its tracks." _

_ "Whu-whu-why?" _

_ Mike answered. "Chüd. Bill, you were convinced it was an illusion. You were convinced that Neibolt was just a house of tricks. And so it was. Richie's right, It could have gotten Eddie, but when It heard you, It got scared. That's when it knew, I think. It knew that we could defeat it. Bill, you discovered the ritual of Chüd, and you didn't even know it." _

_ "So you're saying all that stuff wasn't real after all?" Bev asked. "No, that can't be right. It was real. The blood… that was real. My daddy didn't see it, but you guys did. It was real." _

_ "So was the blood on Stan's face," Richie said. "It wasn't an illusion when we were kids and it wasn't an illusion just now. He still had bandages wrapped around his face a month later. And Eddie's broken arm. It was all real." _

_ "It wasn't though. I'm not bleeding anymore. Bill was right, it was an illusion. It wasn't real." _

_ "Reality is relative," Mike said. "That's Chüd. The only one in this cornfield is Ben. Richie, you and I are the only ones actually talking, but we aren't here. You're still in the bathroom. But look around – we're in Ben's backyard and there all here. It's a paradox. Chüd is when the smoke clears. It's when you realize that everything is mind, there is no object to be severed elsewhere. When you realize mind itself is empty and that the severance and the severer are one single being – that they  _ are  _ mind – you see that there is no severing fear, because it's already been cut. When you did the smokehole the first time, you told me that you could see our friends but they couldn't see you. But you did it again and they saw. At least they almost did. You made an impact on their worlds, a shadow of you came through. That's when Eddie's heart stopped beating. All at once, you were able to be there with them, just for a second." _

_ "Well, I can only speak for myself, but I'm definitely here. How did that happen?" Ben asked. "How can we both be here and not be here?" _

_ "The phu-phu-physical link, that's what brought us hu-hu-here," Bill said. Richie looked at him and believed him. Bill held his scarred palm forward. No one seemed shocked to see matching scars on their own hands. "Doesn't that muh-muh-make us united? Mike, you said we were in the muh-muh-macroverse and that the scars link us. Suh-so we're here, in a muh-mental link or whatever, this isn't real – at least nuh-not physically. Our physical bodies are right where they wuh-wuh-were when we felt Ruh-Richie near us, buh-but our minds are in here. Paradox suh-suh-solved. Right, Mike?" _

_ "Close," Mike said with a world-weary half-chuckle. "But it's a bit more complicated." _

_ "No," Stan said, almost pleading. "This isn't real – none of it. Please, God, please."  _

_ "I'm sorry, but can we please not have the 'am I real' conversation right now? Who has time for metaphysics? Whether we're really here or not, it doesn't matter," Beverly said, her cheeks emboldened with a light that could only be present in her. "We need to help Eddie. Right, Richie?" _

_ Stan looked as though he might collapse and Richie, just for a moment, saw him as a child. _

_ "Bev's right," Richie said, clapping Stan on the back.  _

_ "And how do we do help him? Mike, you said Eddie's heart stopped." _

_ "Yes. That was about sixty seconds ago ago. Time doesn't work the same way in the macroverse as it does normally. It's 12:02 now. At least it is for Richie, Stan, and I. " _

_ "Well then Eddie's still at the hospital, right? If he had a heart attack, then he's at the hospital. At least I'd hope so." _

_ "Yes," Richie said. "Myra called me from the hospital." _

_ "If it was 12:01 when Eddie died and Richie appeared to us at that exact moment – like Mike claims – and now sixty seconds later we're all standing here, then how did Myra tell Richie that Eddie was dead? I mean the doctors wouldn't have told her the moment it happened and even if they somehow did, she couldn't be already telling Richie. And furthermore, Richie breached into all our realities – if that's what you want to call them – at the same time, which also, as you claim, would have been the exact moment of Eddie's death. None of that adds up. Such things just aren't empirically possible." _

_ "I know," Mike frowned. "The timelines are off. That's what's worrisome. There's something else at play here. Richie, the first time you did the smoke-hole, you forgot afterwards, right?" Richie nodded. "Then how did you know to make a smoke-hole again? Tell me everything you remember about the last two minutes." _

_ Richie knit his eyebrows. "I was in my hotel room. I was tired. I'd just finished recording a special – Eddie was supposed to come but he didn't show. I was worried, but I thought he was just talking with Myra… I tried calling him. Then I got a call from his wife. She said my number was in Eddie's phone and that she didn't have anyone else to call… but she had to know about Eddie and I…. he had to have already told her... I mean maybe she was desperate enough to call me anyway, I don't know. But she was sobbing. She told me Eddie was dead. I hung up. I went to the bathroom, shoved a towel under the door, and lit the hotel's copy of the bible on fire as kindling. I breathed in the smoke just as I did a few days ago. Mike was right… I didn't remember what happened the first time around. I just, I don't know, felt something make me go into the bathroom and do that. And then when it started to work, I remembered the first time. Then I saw all of you, but I knew you couldn't see me. And then you could. And then I was with Mike. And now we're all here. Mike, in the first smoke-hole, you said the turtle showed you things. What did you mean by that? Was the turtle what made me make the smoke-hole? Could the turtle save Eddie?" _

_ "I saw a turtle," Bev said suddenly. "On my vanity there's this old jar, and I saw a turtle on it. I mean it must have always been there, but it was like I'd never even noticed it before." _

_ "The turtle can't help us," Mike said. _

_ "The turtle? What fucking turtle? What the hell is going on?" Stan pleaded, his fingers grasping Bill's robe tightly around him.  _

_ "See the turtle of enormous girth, on his shell he holds the Earth. His thought is slow, but always kind. He holds us all within his mind. On his back all vows are made; he sees the truth but mayn't aid," Mike recited. "The turtle can't help us. Maybe he was the one who guided Richie into making the bathroom a smoke-hole and maybe he's the reason that we're all talking, but it can't do much else. The turtle couldn't save Georgie or any of the other children. He can't save Eddie." _

_ "Fuh-fuh-fuh-fuck all this shit! We can save Eddie. If we killed It, we can save Eddie." _

_ Mike was silent and then Richie was certain he'd been right when he'd confessed that he didn't believe It was dead. Richie shared a look with Mike. _

_ "Yeah, Big Bill," Richie said, "Yeah we did. And now we're going to bring Eddie back."  _

_ Stan was crying to himself now. His eyes were red and his arm were hugged close to his body. Mike looked away from Richie and put his arm around Stan's shoulder. Mike gave them all a steely look as he pulled Stan into an embrace. Richie felt a rush of guilt.  _

_ "Stan," Richie said in a tone so soft it surprised even himself. "We can do this." _

_ "No, Richie," Stan sobbed. "No, we can't. Look around! We're floating around in buttfuck Nebraska, apparently because a cosmic turtle wants us to! Do you know how ridiculous this all is? If Eddie is dying, or dead, or whatever – if any of that is  _ actually  _ happening and I'm not just having a fever dream, then there's nothing we can do! You want to save Eddie, huh? Well where is he? Where is anything? You can't just keep people alive by wishing really hard! I mean do you have a plan at all? Or did you just want us to join hands and sing kumbaya? Six people in a cornfield can't help a man who's had a heart attack in New York City. I don't know what the fuck is happening, but somewhere, somehow, I'm in the bathroom bleeding from impossible wounds and my wife is pounding on the door. I want to get back to her." _

_ "That's it though, isn't it?" Bill said. "Yuh-you were buh-buh-bleeding here, but then you stuh-stuh-stopped. Why duh-did you stop bleeding?" _

_ Stan looked at Bill with desperate eyes. "Because you promised I wasn't," he said.  _

_ "And so you weren't," Mike said, as though it were any sort of explanation. "It's like Bill and Richie in Neibolt. Bill thought it was an illusion, he convinced Richie that it was an illusion, and so, like an illusion, it faded away. That's the Ritual of Chüd." _

_ "So what, we're supposed to just believe that Eddie isn't dead?" Ben asked with a bitter laugh. _

_ "No. We just have to believe that something can save him," Richie said as a wave of confidence fell on his shoulders. "Now think. Eddie's blood pressure collapsed and his heart couldn't take it. We know Eddie. What could save him? What could always save little Eddie Kaspbrak?" _

_ Bill smiled at Richie. Beverly laughed. Ben and Mike joined in. Even Stan stood up and wiped his tears.  _

_ "Mike, you said the turtle can't help us. Well that's fine. But what Stan said about the timeline – how things haven't happened in quite the right order – do you think he can move the times again?" _

_ "By a margin of seconds, Rich," Mike said. "We aren't talking time travel here, just blips." _

_ "Seconds are all I need. Just a little record scratch. And to get into the hospital room." _

_ "The record scratch, maybe. But how the hell do plan on getting there? Like I said, the turtle might give you a few seconds, but you're not going to be able to get further than the hotel elevator." _

_ "Well I don't need to leave the bathroom. You said it yourself, I made an impact on the physical world for Bev, Stan, Ben, and Bill. And for fuck's sake, I was able to take your milk. Sorry for that, by the way." _

_ "Okay, maybe you can get in there. If you manage it, it'll just be a flicker. If you're going to try to do what I think you are, you're going to need more than that." _

_ "Trust me, Mikey. This will work." _

 

꤂꤆

 

_ It snapped out of suspension. The ice beneath them shattered. There was a sickening squelching noise as It fell on all fours. Three more arms sprouted from Its chest and another leg arose from Its back. Its head slammed to the ground and retracted into its neck, teeth baring. Then, a second head erupted from Its side. Like an newborn crowning, the shiny pink face of Sonia Kaspbrak emerged howling.  _

_ "You're going to wake up now," Sonia cackled. It took a claw and shoved her face back into his body.  _

_ Eddie felt as though his lungs were collapsing. He pulled in a desperate, wheezing breath and reached for his inhaler.  _

_ "That won't work, faggy boy!" It shrieked.  _

_ Eddie stuffed the inhaler in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It worked. Eddie steadily caught his breath.  _

_ It screamed in delight and clapped its hands. _

_ "I'm not scared of you!" Eddie yelled. _

_ "I know!" It roared in delight. "But you will be!" _

_ Eddie took another hit from the inhaler. _

 

27

 

The doctor left the room and the code team followed.

The nurse stayed behind with her patient as the doctor went to notify the spouse. She looked at Eddie's sagging face and frowned. She had seen dead bodies before, of course she had, but until then, they had all been in lab settings for practicals. She had just graduated from nursing school and Eddie was the first patient she lost. She supposed that she'd have to get used to it.

Then, she felt  _ something  _ behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck spiked and she turned around just in time to see Eddie's inhaler hover in the air before clanging to the ground. It was almost as though an invisible man had dropped it for her to see. 

She felt a magnetic compulsion to pick it up. She remembered something she had heard in nursing school:

_ "Most rescue inhalers are albuterol. When an asthmatic is given albuterol, we must take into consideration whether the patient has a history of high blood pressure. When albuterol is administered, it raises blood pressure, which is dangerous for those who already suffer from hypertension." _

Maybe it was because she was new, maybe it was because she had passed nursing school by the skin of her teeth, or maybe it was because she so desperately wanted to save Eddie – the nurse took the inhaler, gave it a good shake and put it her deceased patient's mouth. She plunged the trigger. In that moment of desperation, this one thing made sense to her: Mr. Kaspbrak suffered from a collapse in blood pressure; albuterol raises blood pressure. It would even out, right?

At 12:03 a.m. Eddie Kaspbrak was no longer dead, just at the same time that his wife made an impossible phone call at 12:01. 

* * *

 

Somewhere, deep in the vats of the macroverse, the turtle's shell was floating dead and empty. It had choked on a galaxy on Saturday night, around the same time Richie walked out of the Rockefeller Center and stuck his head in Eddie's car for the first. 

Mike Hanlon's words echoed in the vastness of the universe:  _ There's something else at play here. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There's going to be an epilogue. Stay tuned!


	11. Epilogue: Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to finish, but here it is! Super special thanks goes out to every single person who read, kudosed, bookmarked, commented, etc.  
> Also, enjoy a beautiful piece of fan art by the lovely HigenRAe at the end!

#  Epilogue: Out of Time

 

_ "Well, baby, baby, baby you're out of time." _

_ –The Rolling Stones _

 

2016

1

_ Close your eyes. _

_ The seat beneath you is gone. All that is beneath is gone. _

_ Take a deep breath in.  _

_ Nothing. The deep, nothing hum of supreme nothing. The big theta waves of the ephemeral universe. _

_ Now slowly out. _

_ There is nothing beneath your eyelids. Loop. Loop. _

_ Honeysuckle. Hyacinth. Candy. Toothpaste. Hash. Cigarettes. _

_ There is darkness behind your eyes, only it isn't darkness because even darkness has fled. _

_ Notice the air moving around your skin. _

_ In _

_ Out _

_ In _

_ The universe is humming. Thick. Deep. A metronome in honey.  _

_ In _

_ Out  _

_ In–" _

"Can you hear me?"

_ Theta waves. The song of the universe. And nothing beneath the eyelids. No light, no dark – patterns of colors all the same. No light, but colors. Impossible. And yet, they are there. The sun is shining. An impossible warmth.  _

_ You are there. _

_ "Richie?" _

_ And his eyes opened.  _

_ "Do you know where we are this time?" _

_ Richie looked around. A tulip tree dripped over them. Richie picked one up and let the petals pass through his flesh. Actuality was in flux, it seemed.  _

_ "The caves of the Lenape people. New York City. Eddie and I… that was where I was the first time. Is it good that we're here?" _

_ "Hard to say." _

_ Mike took Richie's hand, although the little men weren't there. _

_ "Concentrate, Richie."  Veins to veins to arteries to veins and arteries and capillaries and veins, too. Electric. Connected and ready to work, although there was no blood within them. _

_ "I am." _

_ "You aren't. You never are." _

_ "Ok." Richie held onto the empty magnetic space that held Mike's being. "Where are we going today?" _

_ "Neibolt." _

_ "Do we have to? I hate that one." _

_ "It's an important one. We need to see it from every angle, ok?" _

"Richie?"

_ Mike sighed and laughed a little.  _

_ "I'm guessing you forgot to tell him that we were doing a session today?" _

"Rich?"

_ "You should get to him. We'll do Neibolt next week. I have something important to send to you – a newspaper article. I tried mailing it, but it was just sent back to me. Didn't leave the post office in Derry. Voided mail." _

_ "It's getting stronger, then." _

_ "It seems that way. Last time I headed out of town, my tire blew." _

_ "I can do another session tonight. You can try bringing the newspaper through here then."  _ "I thought about something to try."  _ "Ok, if he's talking about what I'm hoping he's talking about, I'll be busy tonight. Sorry." _

_ "All night?" _

_ Richie gave Mike a wide, shit eating grin.  _

_ "We are very good at using the whole night. In fact, yesterday, Eddie did this thing with his tongue–" _

_ "Beep-beep! Richie, beep-beep. God. I don't need the details." _

_ "Sure, Mike. Let's just both pretend you didn't zap yourself into our bedroom a few months ago." _

_ "Don't bring that up! I've been trying to forget I even saw that…. God. I could have gone my whole life without knowing how flexible Eddie Kaspbrak was. Ugh. It was even worse than the time I accidentally buzzed in on Bill and Audra." _

_ "I'd pay to see that." _

_ "And that's why I'm the one who visits them, not you. If Stan remembered you peeking in on him and Patty–" _

_ "Ew! I wasn't peeking–" _

_ "Then you should understand! I can't always control when I get to visit. And if it makes  you feel better, I had to practically power wash my eyeballs after seeing you and Eddie." _

_ "Still better than Bev and Tom, am I right?" _

_ "Don't, Richie. Don't joke about that." _

_ "I'm not. I just… I just hate it. I hate it so much. And there's nothing we can do. When I first was sent to them, the way he hit her…" _

"I got this lube that's silicone-based instead of water-based, because I know you were sore after last time in the shower– Oh my God! Are you talking to Mike?!" 

_ Mike laughed. They went back to pretending that they both didn't know what Beverly's life was like. The rare times they did talk about it were laced with guilt. That was perhaps the worst part of Mike's monitoring. He could never quite shake the feeling of complicitness when he buzzed in on her putting concealer over the bruises.  _

_ "You should get going, Rich. Say hi to Eddie." Mike looked like there was something else he needed to say. "Cherish your time with him. Have a good night." _

"Hi, Eddie." Richie opened his eyes – his real, physical, bulging from his skull, eyes – and smiled.

"You were! Oh my God, please tell me he didn't hear me." Eddie went beet red.

"I'm sorry, Eds." Richie sat up from his armchair. "I forgot we were going to do a session. And besides, how was I supposed to know you were going to be coming home early?" Eddie responded by kissing Richie. It was bit deeper and bit more desperate than normal. "Eds?'

"You're getting really good, Rich. It looked like you just fell asleep in your chair or something."

"Mike's getting better too. I mean he still has to get a little high, but at least he doesn't use smack anymore."

"That's good." Eddie kissed Richie's forehead, but Richie didn't respond. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah. It's just every day… we keep getting closer."

"I know. But we have right now. And once upon a time, a very handsome, very ridiculous man made me very grateful to live in the moment." 

"And you say I'm the dork." Richie laughed and pulled Eddie close. He grinded his hips a bit when he felt something hard against them. "Is that the bottle of lube or are you just happy to see me?"

Eddie rolled his eyes and Richie was sure he was about to be beeped. 

"Both."

2

_ "Page twenty-two. It didn't even make the front, but I guess that's to be expected in this town." _

_ Static. Hum. Static. Hum. _

_ Richie flipped to the page. The headline read: BODY FOUND IN APPARENT HATE CRIME MURDER. _

_ "What's this?" Richie felt his fingers stiffen somewhere a million miles away.  _

_ "Adrian Mellon. He lived in Derry with his boyfriend. He was in his mid-twenties. Gay. Asthmatic. Below average height." _

_ "Mike." _

_ "Richie. Mellon was thrown over the kissing bridge last week at the Canal Day Festival by a gang of teenage boys. Homophobia was the sole motive, even the police around here know that much." _

_ "It wasn't It. Mike…" _

_ "It was, Richie. His body was found with chunks of flesh missing. The police are seeking a murder conviction against the teenagers, but the fall isn't what killed him." _

_ "It could have been an animal." _

_ "One of the perpetrators reported seeing a clown--" _

_ "Well he's looking to get off the murder charges, then!" _

_ "Richie! Mellon's boyfriend reported seeing it too. Ok? Adrian Mellon was killed by It. It's back." _

_ "No. It kills children. Why would it kill a grown man?" _

_ "You know why, Richie." _

_ The sky beat flames of lilac and ribbons of horrid flames seemed to lick around them. Mike flickered. Gay. Asthmatic. Small. _

_ "It's coming," Mike's voice rang through the cosmic void. "I'll make the calls soon." _

_ "Mike–" _

_ "You and Eddie have to come. Look, I know you're scared and so am I, but we've been practicing." _

_ "Practicing? God, Mike! We've gotten nowhere!" _

_ "We have. You know we have. For Christ's sake, you can slip into the macroverse without any stimulant at all. And we've prepared. Between the two of us, I don't think that there is a single document written in Derry that we haven't analyzed down to the letter. We've been able to go through every time we saw It that summer. I mean the information we got from Neibolt alone–" _

_ "None of what we learned means  _ shit _ if we still can't figure out what to do with it. We've been having sessions for nearly two fucking years and that night in the hospital is still the only time we've ever been able to affect the physical world." _

_ "It's because the other Losers were with us. Ok? We can do it when we're all together. The plan's going to work. We're going to kill it and we won't even have to leave my apartment." _

_ "You know as well as I do that it's not going to be that easy so don't kid me. We're going to have to go to the sewers." _

_ "Fine. We will." _

_ "And you can't promise that we'll all come out." _

_ "We brought Eddie back from the dead. If anyone… if something happens, we can bring them back." _

_ "There was something else that helped us with that, Mike. You're the fucking one who kept harping on it." _

_ "It was the Turtle." _

_ "Yeah. The mighty grand cosmic turtle that speaks to you is going to save us. That's what you keep saying. But ever since Eddie and I found each other, there's no more turtle talking to you. Huh? It's been radio-fucking-silence for two years. If there was a turtle that wanted help us, it's abandoned us now." Richie could feel his body start to cry somewhere very, very far away. The empty space around them flickered red. _

"Richie?"

_ "Go be with him. I'll make the calls tomorrow." _

"Honey, are you crying?"

_ "Fine, Mike. Make the fucking calls." _

"Richie?"

Richie wiped his tears and sniffed. 

"Sorry, Eds. I must've nodded off." Richie smiled and pushed a lock of hair out of Eddie's eyes. "Do you want to go to dinner? Somewhere fancy?"

"Richie…" Eddie's face was lined with worry.

"No, nothing fancy. Don't want to deal with the paparazzi. I was talking to Bill Hader and he says there's a great hole in the wall place in Chinatown. Apparently it's dirt cheap and disgusting but Bill said no one ever tries to approach him there. Let's just have a romantic night. Besides, I know a really great car service that prides itself on privacy and discretion."

"Ha ha. Very funny."  After what was only called, 'that night,' Premier brought its service in every major U.S. city and was met with resounding success. Over the past two years, Eddie became the most affluent member of the Losers and that was saying something. He, Ben, and Bill were comfortably in the tens of millions with Richie, Stan, and Beverly all raking in nearly just as much. Not that Beverly ever saw a lick of her own money. And there was that crushing guilt again. Eddie was doing well in the other aspects of his life too. He'd salvaged a friendship with Myra. The only medication he took now was the occasional 10mg tablet of Propranolol for anxiety. He saw a therapist every month and was finally able to start healing properly from his mother's abuse. 

"Come on, baby. How about it? We could use a nice date night. Let's get in our best suits and take on the town," Richie purred.

"Put on our best suits for shitty Chinese?"

"You know you want to!"

"Ok," Eddie laughed into Richie's neck. "But if you wear that tacky cowboy belt, I will break up with you."

"But it really ties the outfit together! Literally!"

 

3

 

Richie wore the belt. The restaurant was nice. Bill Hader had given Richie good intel. The few other patrons looked too tired to try to get Rich Tozier to do an impression for them. Richie's special became the highest rated HBO program of 2014, and he'd produced two more with Netflix since. He joined Narcotics Anonymous and his two year chip hung proudly on their fridge. He drank in moderation. He got his license back. His career took off. Everything fell into place.

The restaurant had a self-serve beverage station and Eddie made a show of filling both their cups with ice. They started chatting when they sat down.

"Did you talk to Myra today?" 

"Yeah, she's doing good."

"Wedding's still on, then?"

"Yeah." 

"Starting next month, you're a free man. No more alimony for you," Richie kissed Eddie's cheek.

"I didn't mind," Eddie said.

"I know you didn't. That's what makes you a good person."

"No."

"No?"

"You're what makes me a good person, Rich. It's always been you."

Richie knew it was time. It had to be time. If they were about to breach into the terrifying unknown again, if there was even a sliver of a chance that one of them would not return, Richie had something he had to do. It was a good thing he'd decided to do a long time ago. Mike had helped Richie pick out the ring. He smiled at Eddie and pulled it out.

He looked at Eddie and saw him so clearly. He saw all the smiles he'd ever made and all the tears too. And it was all beautiful. The last two years had been perfect. 

"Marry me–" Eddie cut him off with a laugh. There was a terrifying millisecond where Richie was terrified that he'd somehow grievously miscalculated. 

"Yes!" Eddie grabbed Richie by the lapels of his nicest shirt and pressed their lips together. 

 

4

 

The phone call came the next night. Eddie answered and put it on speaker when he saw who the caller was.

_ "Richie, Eddie, this is Mike." _

An empty sort of darkness fell over Richie's face. It looked like regret, maybe desperation. The lines around his eyes begged Eddie to hang up, to curl in bed, to pretend the phone hadn't rung. But they were both old and wise enough to know the power of irreversible words. Eddie took Richie's scarred palm in his own. He kissed the raised tissue crawling to the heel of Richie's hand. 

"Mike, we'll be there in the morning. Tomorrow afternoon at the latest," Eddie answered for the both of them and hung up. "We have to pack," Eddie said even as his hands shook and tears threatened to fall. 

"We don't have to go," Richie didn't meet Eddie's eyes as he spoke. "We can stay here."

"We can't. Richie, we just can't."

"I know."

"Then we have to pack."

"I almost lost you. I like the life we've built together." Richie's heart was thrumming even faster than Eddie's. 

"I do too," Eddie whispered back. "I love us so much. You know what my life was like before– I know what yours was like too. These past couple of years have been my  _ everything. _ I love our house, I love living here, I love following you on tours, I love staying home and watching you on TV, I love when you touch me and I love touching you, I love the way your hair looks when you wake up, I love your stupid tacky belt buckle, I love that you're the last thing I see every night before I go to sleep  – I love  _ you _ . I love you so much, Richie," Eddie was crying. "But we need to go. We made a promise. Children are dying and we're two of only people on Earth who can actually do something about it. Remember Georgie?"

"I remember seeing It using his body like a one-armed puppet in the sewers. If that happened to you–"

"It won't."

"What did it feel like?"

"What?"

"When we saved you, what did it feel like? Did it feel like love?"

"No, it actually felt terrifying," Eddie laughed nervously. "Why are you asking?"

"You told me you saw It–"

"My heart had stopped."

"You said that It told you you were going to wake up before you even reached for the inhaler. You said that It knew you weren't going to die. You said–"

"It laughed. It was happy. It sounded like it was thrilled." Eddie felt his blood freeze.  _ There's something else at play here.  _ Richie had told him Mike's words the day they'd left L.A. The realization hit him hard. He wasn't saved by his friends, not really. He wasn't saved by a turtle. He wasn't saved by God. 

Sometimes, Eddie wondered what it would be like if he could change the past. He thought about how his life would be different if he had never married Myra – if he'd found the strength to come to terms with his sexuality earlier. It would have saved him years of pain and confusion. He probably would have found a boyfriend after college. He'd probably date lots of men. He'd probably find one he could love for a long time. He'd probably haved married one. In that alternate world, would he have ever recognized Richie? Would he have run into him again at all? He knew the answer was no.

Eddie Kaspbrak was forty years old. He had a bald spot in the back of his head, but that was okay. His hands weren't so dry anymore and his gums were healthy. He'd been wearing his rimless spectacles for a lot longer now and everyday he got to see his soulmate through them. His asthma had gone away and he liked to jog while Richie struggled to keep up. Sometimes, they would go to the gym and play baseball together. He was a pretty good hitter. His figure was lithe. He was attractive, and Richie reminded him of that fact every day. He was short. He was strong. He could be assertive. He drank his water with ice. He was treated for his anxiety. Most of all, Eddie loved his life. He took a sharp breath and held Richie close. 

"It wasn't the turtle. In my headspace – when I was dead, when I was with It – I felt a whisper in my ear. It's what brought you guys together. It brought you together and it  _ let _ you save me. That's why it was happy when my heart started to beat again – it was thrilled, Richie, I swear to God, it was  _ thrilled. _ It wanted me to live. It wants to kill me. It didn't want me to die in that hospital because It wants me to die by its hands. It wants to kill all of us, but it knows it can get me. It knows I get scared and it wants that fear. It– It knows that I'm the weakest." Richie grabbed Eddie's hands. They stopped shaking.

"You aren't. You're not weak at all, ok? God, I love you so much Eddie. I won't let anything happen to you."

"But you're scared that something will. You're scared that I'm going to end up like Georgie."

"Maybe if we'd never met again. But with  _ this," _ Richie squeezed Eddie's hands tighter, "we can do it. What happened two years ago was crazy and terrifying and almost left you dead, but somehow the universe broke its own rules and allowed us to collide together through everything. Mike and I have worked together every week. We've learned everything we can. Whatever happens, Eds, we are stronger because we found each other. When I said we don't have to go… I was serious." 

Eddie took his face from its burrow in Richie's shoulder and tilted his chin up. 

"We do have to go. We have to kill It. And after we do, I'm going to marry you, Richie. I'm going to marry you and I'm going to take your name because your name means so much more to me than my mother's ever did. We're going to have a big wedding and we're going to invite Big Bill and Bev and Mike and Stan and Ben. We're going to start talking to them every week and at least once a year we'll invite them all out to L.A. and have a big reunion. We're going to be married for a very long time and eventually we'll be two old farts who still love each other more than any two people have loved each other before. I'm going to be Eddie Tozier and you're going to love me forever. But first we're going to kill that fucking clown. We're going to kill it and not one more child in Derry is going to die the way Georgie did – not one more." 

Richie held him tighter. "I told you you were the brave one. You were always the brave one."

The Turtle had brought Richie to Eddie's car with its dying breath. Pennywise had saved Eddie Kaspbrak in the way a cat would save mouse only to kill it more severely later. But It would soon learn that bringing Eddie Kaspbrak back to life was the worst mistake it could ever make. 

Richie had spent the last two years on a countdown. He had been crippled with terror that his days with Eddie were numbered. As Mike'd told him about the death of Adrian Mellon, Richie had thought they were out of time. But now with Eddie's brave and blaring eyes looking into his, it was clear to Richie that It was the one whose time had run out. 

[](https://imgur.com/4JUh6Ae)

**Author's Note:**

> The end is near! I've got everything all planned for the rest of this fic, so I'm confident that now that I've set a chapter count, I'll be sticking with it. Anyone got any idea for what I should write next??


End file.
